


Where We Were Free

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Romance, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Curses, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Human Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Human/Monster Romance, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Murder, Mythology - Freeform, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Running Away, Sex Work, Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Male Character, Violence, Weird Fluff, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26086960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: Anthony is so tired of carrying out the Family Business so he hops a train and changes his name to get away. He was raised in the city though. He wasn't prepared for the things that go bump in the night to be real. Even less so to meet one out in the woods.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 204
Kudos: 591





	1. Disappear

**Author's Note:**

> Im a simple guy. I get writer's block I start something new. This has my beastmode!Al though so points for monsters right?

**1943**

Anthony could handle deals for the Family. Laundering, interrogations, and handling dead drops were all fine but he didn't like the killing. His sister understood but his brother said he was too empathetic and his father… Well, Henry hadn't really shown much appreciation for one of his 'daughters' taking on men's work. But Anthony was a man, so it was something he had to do, right?

"Please, I have a family!" A stranger in a chair begged, nothing Angel hadn't heard before.

A flour sack over his face more for Anthony's benefit than to add to the other's torture. They all cried and begged, claiming their families needed them, that they had to provide for children, or sometimes if they were bolder that they knew people who would enact revenge. This was easier when he didn't have to look at a face to match the pleading to.

"Yeah, so do I." Anthony huffed in response. "Ain't nothin' personal. Just business." He said, wishing it made him feel better. It didn't.

He pulled the trigger.

The crying stopped.

Anthony hated this work so much. Dying looked so much easier than killing and it was still the victims crying to live. What for? So they could stumble through one more miserable day, being kicked down one way or another and still being expected to shine the boots that did the kicking? Anthony, for what had to be the thousandth time, found himself wishing he could just disappear. 

He didn't want to die. Not really. He just wished he could get in his car and drive off. Start a new life where nobody knew him and he could start over without any strings tying him back to the dirty, bloody business he'd been born into. He could try, but if he drove anywhere someone would recognize the car and report back. 

"So don't drive…" He muttered under his breath, wondering why the revelation was coming to him now. 

There were trains. He had the cash for it. It was winter so he knew he should head south. He always came back late from jobs anyway since he often needed a drink or a hit of whatever was available to calm his frazzled nerves. No one would even know he was gone until he was already out of reach. Nothing was really stopping. If someone did come looking for him and found him, well, what was there to lose? Even a taste of the illusion of freedom was better than being nothing more than a gun in someone else's hands.

So Anthony hopped onto the first southbound train he could, excited and scared but feeling alive without relying on a false high for the first time since he was a kid. He didn't have much. Just his wallet, coat, and his bag of spare clothes he had kept in his car in case things got too bloody and he needed to change. It was a start though, and cash wasn't hard to come by now that the Depression had ended.

Louisiana was a good place to stop, Anthony had decided on a whim. It seemed to be a good choice. The people seemed friendly, a lot friendlier than he had expected. In New York there were crowds of people pretending to mind their business but here was less crowded and everyone who greeted him wanted to know who he was and where he was from. This was the first step to being someone he wanted to be, so he gave his name as Angel and answered that he was from 'a ways off'. 

"Odd name for a boy." The clerk at a general store, an older man, said gruffly, in a way that suggested he didn't really care.

"Well my ma must've knew somethin'." Angel shrugged it off with a smile as he paid for his newspaper to try getting his bearings in the new city. As an afterthought he added, "Wouldn't happen to know Dorothy, would you?" 

The man squinted, clearly hearing the question for what it was meant to be."I see her around sometimes." 

"Know where she stays?" Angel prompted further. Alcohol was no longer outlawed and hadn't been for a good ten years, but being of a different orientation or identity was still prohibited. 

The man peered around the store, making sure it was empty before answering. "Come back after six. We're standing on it."

Angel nodded, tucking the newspaper under his arm and buying a pack of cigarettes as well. "Thanks, Mister…?"

"Husker. How'd you know to ask me?" He asked.

"I'm a great guesser." Angel shrugged.

"Fucking lucky bastard." Husk grunted. "Take your shit and get out then. New face standing around, someone'll think you're up to something.

"Noted." Angel said. 

He spent the rest of his day exploring the city, finding his way down one stfeet, homing back to the general store as that seemed like a good place to keep in mind, and walking right down the next street. It was surprisingly similar to new york, being a sort of grid system but less crowded. It was pretty easy to figure out. 

Where the city thinned out at the edge was marsh where the river mixed with woodland; The bayou. Angel made a mental note of it and checked his watch before heading back to the general store just as Husk seemed to be closing up shop. The man noticed him come in and opened the hinged part of the counter to let him through, waving toward a back door that lead to the stock room.

"There's a staircase behind the red crates. Just kick the rug over." Husker explained. "Early as shit… Probably ain't gonna be what a city kid like you is used to."

"How can you tell I'm from the city?" Angel huffed.

"Shoes." Husker grunted. Angel glanced down, noting as his own simple shoes and how they differed from Husker's thicker work boots. "And the coat. Like you're expectin' snow."

"Does it not snow here?" Angel asked. 

"Not much. River might freeze over and then slush gets around but actual snow doesn't happen for a few weeks if it happens at all." 

Angel took that to heart, making a note to himself to get a change of wardrobe once he had the funds. His brother's hand-me-downs weren't ideal. They'd draw attention, clearly, which wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to disappear.

Through the speakeasy-turned-queer hideaway, Angel met a few people. A couple of girls, the latina one wary of strangers but the paler one making conversation eagerly. An older gentleman with an accent that marked him as english. A short, fidgety woman that Angel was sure had to be on speed but denied such when he asked her to share. Husker himself didn't mingle, keeping watch of the stair and occasionally going up to check that the music wasn't audible above ground in the closed shop. 

A few others were there as well, but none that Angel took any special notice of until one made a very blunt proposition. Angel jokingly answered with a price which was taken seriously. Angel wasn't about to turn down easy money when all it took was a few minutes on his knees. He needed the cash and couldn't rely on his family anymore anyway. Every cent would help him to at least get started.

Finally, when Angel had had enough of socializing and was considerably tipsy, he let himself out of the shop and wandered a while. He meant to seek out a hotel to sleep, but instead found himself following the river toward the woods. He wasn't sure why. He'd just started walking and then couldn't talk himself into turning around. 

Angel did finally stop at the treeline, staring out into the forest. He hesitated, wondering why he was even here. Archie must be wondering where he was. No doubt Molly was sad when he never come home. Maybe he should go home. Maybe he should turn back and revisit the hotel idea he'd had a few minutes ago. Maybe he...couldn't finish the thought because something deep in the woods was calling him. Not by sound but from somewhere in the part of his soul he knew was marred by murder. A profound feeling, like when one single lyric in an otherwise unassuming song that smacks you in the face with how deeply it resonates. What was it? 

He had to find out.


	2. Local Wildlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never a good idea to get lost in the woods at night. You never know what might find you.

Angel was lost. Once he was in the woods far enough to lose track of the treeline he couldn't find his way out again. It may not have been as cold out as he was used to but it was still enough for him to pull his coat tighter around him. The air was damp, a pressured sort of smell that meant rain would be coming soon. He trudged onward, sure that if he just kept going in a straight line he'd find the edge of the forest. It wasn't working. The trees and shrubbery only grew denser, seeming to close in. Not long after, rain began to fall. 

The dark wasn't helping, the moonlight not being much to see by. Still, Angel noticed when a branch moved. Two branches, mirrored shapes to each other, turning in sync before two red lights appeared between them. They weren't branches. They were antlers. Angel stilled, confused at first and then afraid as he realized he suddenly had the attention of an animal. A very large animal.

"Shit!" Angel cursed as the animal moved toward him, faster than its size suggested. 

A rattling growl responded, accompanied by a fuzzy feeling in Angel's head that felt like a radio tuning into the static between stations. It took far too much effort for Angel to get his feet to move, barely managing to run before sharp teeth snapped shut around empty air. 

Angel forgot about being lost in favor of sprinting away, hoping for somewhere to hide as he alternated between profanities and prayer. The animal didn't give chase right away, seemingly giving Angel a head start. Exactly ten seconds, if Angel had been paying enough attention to notice.

The wet soil soaked through his shoes. Tears blurred his vision, though he still managed to see an old cabin covered in moss. He veered for it, slipping in mud and knocking the breath from his lungs. Adrenaline kept Angel at his top speed and stopped him from feeling it when his achilles tendon hyperextended, though it would certainly hurt later. He picked himself up and scrambled toward the cabin, nearly knocking the rotting door from its rusted hinges in his haste to get inside. 

A groan sounded, loud but hollow as the creature slowed, hoofsteps going around the cabin but not leaving. It knew Angel was inside, and Angel knew while the creature was too big to fit through the door it could probably knock the building over if it wanted. It was little more than a hunting shed, clearly forgotten and reclaimed by nature on the outside. Angel had trapped himself.

Angel could see it through cracks between the planks of the wall. Angel had seen pictures of deer before, and whatever this thing was it was similar, but wrong. For one thing it was twice the size of a man. For another he could see its skull now that he was looking properly, sharp teeth like a bear trap. He could also see its ribs and part of its spine, like armor plating instead of on the inside where bones should be. Where Angel was sure a deer's belly should be white, this beast was black and with the dim light he couldn't be sure but he could have sworn the rest of its fur was a deep bloody red, only highlighted by the glow of red eyes.

Oddly, the creature didn't even touch the cabin, only circled it like a vulture. Without the danger feeling so immediate, Angel's fear-induced high started to fade. His lungs burned, his ankle hurt, and his stomach churned. He fell to the wood floor, expelled all that he had drank prior, and cried. 

By morning Angel woke, not remembering falling asleep. He hadn't dreamt but where he was alerted him to the fact the events of the night hadn't been just a nightmare. He was fairly sure that the monster he'd been chased by had probably been just a normal deer, warped by an intoxicated mind and the dark of the night. Just a harmless hallucination. Not real.

Angel picked himself up, staggering as one ankle refused to take his weight gracefully. He opened the door, then slammed it shut again. The deer-like thing was still there, maybe ten feet away, very much real and asleep in the long grass. With the limp, Angel didn't trust himself to sneak past it. It's ears were large, so it would probably hear him all too easily if he so much as kicked a leaf the wrong way.

Angel knew he would have to leave the cabin eventually but hoped that the monster would move first. Surely it would get bored or hungry and go find something else to hunt. Predators, he was sure it had to be a predator with teeth like that, always went for the easy meal. Angel was fine with that. He'd been told he was difficult since he was a small child. 

"Ain't so scary in the light…" Angel muttered, watching the thing through the cracks in the wall. He halfway wanted to pet it, but since it had tried to kill him last night Angel knew that was probably a good way to lose an arm. An ear twitched toward his direction. "Yeah, wake up and leave already."

But the creature didn't wake for another few hours, by which point Angel was thirsty and sore from sitting in the same position. It was the afternoon, still light out but bound to be dark in another few hours. Angel waited a few minutes after it walked away, stepping out and standing, ready to bolt back into the cabin should the thing come back. It didn't, so Angel picked the opposite way and walked as directly as possible. Finally he found the river, following it to the treeline and back into town. 

"You're tracking mud." Husk said as Angel limped into the shop. "The fuck happened to you?" 

"I don't like nature." Angel huffed.

"Then don't go in it, dumbass." Husk sighed. 

Angel cleaned himself up in the water closet, not bothering to ask. He'd definitely need clothes now but that would cost money. He had a little extra from the guy before, _Trevor? Travis?_ But it wouldn't last. 

"Wouldn't happen to be hiring, would'ja?" Angel asked.

Husk sighed. He didn't need the help, but when some kid comes in covered in muck with a limp and asks for a job…"How are you with numbers?"

"Pretty good." Angel answered. 

"You can do inventory lists then. Maybe move the lighter boxes when they come in." Husk decided. 

"What, you think I can't carry heavy shit? I'm stronger than I look."

"You're limping." Husk gruffed. "Heal up first."

"I can--"

"Heal. Up. First." Husk insisted sternly. "You found a place to stay?"

 _No._ "Yeah." Angel's pride answered for him.


	3. Neighbors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter than I'd like but work's kicking my ass.

Angel knew it was a dumb idea but it would be a cheap, actually free, place to stay. It just needed a little fixing. Patch up the walls, clean up where he'd puked, see about plumbing and maybe even get a radio at least. The cabin would be something to keep him busy and no rent made it ideal even if it was small. Angel just had to watch out for the oversized nightmare of a deer, but then it was obviously nocturnal. Easy enough to avoid so long as he kept an eye on his watch.

The place was definitely a fixer-upper but it had the perks of being out of the way. Even if the mafia caught wind of him being in the city, no one would guess he'd shacked up in a literal shack in the woods. The only downside he saw was the requirement of manual labor, a probably lack of electricity which could definitely be corrected later, and the giant deer monster that hadn't even tried to get indoors anyway.

There was also the fact he still felt inexplicably drawn to the woods. Maybe after living his whole life surrounded by concrete he was just starved for a new experience. The grass _would_ be greener where there was actually grass.

The first night he slept on the floor after washing away where he had vomited the night prior. Soon after he was able to get a mattress to sleep on instead. It wasn't much but it was a start. Luckily the deer thing still seemed to be easily thwarted by walls so Angel wasn't too worried about it anymore.

He considered writing a letter to his siblings. He didn't go through with it. With his luck it would be read by his father first and point right to him even if he left off a return address. Still, he hoped Molly and Archie wouldn't be too worried. He missed them, but didn't want to risk his newfound relative freedom.

A few weeks passed and Angel fell into a welcome routine of working in the general store with Husker, going to the cabin to get some work done on that, mainly cleaning the inside and patching the roof and inside walls, though he left the vines and moss growing up the outside walls. There was a certain charm to that. Like having a garden he had nothing to do with. After his ankle healed he started getting more physical work moving boxes. If he ended up in town after the sun went down he'd go downstairs to find someone to trade favors for extra cash instead of going home. 

Finally when Angel had enough saved he managed to hire someone to come and get wiring done on the cabin. It already had a bit for lighting, though it all needed to be replaced. He also bought new light bulbs for the fixtures and a radio. It took the better part of a day but it was worth the money and time to not have to rely on sunlight through dusty windows. Even more so to have music to listen to when he finally had somewhere to plug the radio into.

Angel left the radio on quietly to sleep. He always heard the rustling in the woods when it got dark. Owl hoots. Coyotes squealing. Overly heavy and lumbering hoofsteps Angel had come to recognize as the creature from before. He hadn't seen it clearly again but he always heard it. He hoped having music on would distract him from it. Instead, as the hoofsteps got closer to the cabin, the radio sputtered and began rapidly cycling through channels and Angel could see the dial spinning. Even stranger, through the flipping stations he could have sworn he heard words.

**My. House.**

"What the fuck?" Angel said to no one, leaving his mattress on the floor to turn the radio off.

The creature outside bellowed angrily, and the radio turned itself back on. Angel startled as it did so.

**Come. Out.**

Angel quickly unplugged the radio. "Hell no."

The creature fell into what sounded like a tantrum. Roaring, rattling, and ripping up roots with its hooves. Angel rolled over and pulled his thin pillow over his ears, but it didn't do much to muffle the commotion. It lasted a solid hour before Angel finally got fed up and moved to open the door, hinges squealing even though they had been one of the first things he'd fixed.

"Shut the fuck up!" Angel shouted.

And the deer actually did so, staring at the man in the doorway like it was surprised anyone would dare speak to it in such a way. Granted most people, if it even saw people very often, must usually react with fear. Angel was a bit afraid at first but knew he was safe in the cabin and he was too tired and irritated to be bothered by a possible threat of bodily harm. Hell, he risked bodily harm every day that he went out in trousers instead of a skirt. At least from an animal the maiming wouldn't be personal.

"We're neighbors now I guess so be neighborly and pipe down you fuckin' overgrown goat!" Angel continued before slamming the door and crossing the room to flop back onto his bed. The radio, despite being unplugged, turned itself on again. "Great, I'm fuckin' haunted." Angel sighed as he expected more forced words through static. 

Instead, it cycled through a few stations before settling on soft jazz.


	4. A Pig is not a Puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk seems to know more than he says and Angel will not be intimidated.

As Angel got more work done to make the small house a home, he found an old lockbox tucked away in a corner of a cupboard. It was metal, but rusted enough that the latch broke off when he banged it against the corner of the counter a few times. 

Inside wasn't actually much. A few knives that ranged from looking like they must have belonged to a very careful butcher or a very careless doctor. They were less worn than the rusted box, so Angel tossed them in the sink for a wash. No sense wasting something that could be useful.

The most interesting thing was a photograph, somewhat damaged but still clear enough. It showed a dark skinned woman and two young men, one not quite as dark as herself and the other clearly white. The white one Angel could recognize as a younger Husker, though he hadn't seen the other man around town. Angel turned the picture over, a short sentence in french written on the back with a year. It had been taken twenty years ago.

He brought the picture with him to work, flashing it at Husker who quickly snatched it. 

"You were a looker. Other guy was too, who's he?" Angel asked.

"None of your fucking business." Husker grumbled, tucking the picture into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Where did you even find this?"

"It was left behind where I moved in." Angel shrugged, turning and getting to work pulling crates off the back of Husker's truck to start stocking shelves.

"You moved in… To the shack in the woods." Husker realized, then shook his head. "You got balls, I'll give you that. But there's dangerous shit out there." 

"I know." Angel agreed. "I ain't dead yet. I fixed the door so not even coyotes are gonna get in. Though I did have to chase a possum out of the cupboards last sunday." He was baiting, trying to see how much Husker knew without bringing up the monster in the woods. Angel knew if he just blurted out what he had seen he'd be deemed crazy and he'd already been threatened with asylum enough in his life so far.

Husker squinted at him, then sighed. "Just be careful at night." He said, not letting on if he knew anything or not. "And maybe get a dog if you're set on staying there." He added, a bit cryptically. 

Angel had no idea what to make of that, but even asking didn't make Husker explain. The older man just shook his head and the two continued unloading crates and stocking shelves in a companionable quiet. After that was done and the store opened, Husker took his usual place at the register while Angel alternated between cleaning and helping out the people who needed assistance carrying what they bought out or finding the trickier things. 

After work Angel had the afternoon off. He wondered where he would even get a dog. There wasn't a pet store that he had noticed, but he did know there were small farms set up in the more rural areas. He'd heard farms had dogs to herd sheep and protect chickens and if he was lucky maybe one had had puppies recently. Asking around yielded no puppies but one lady mentioned her sow had had piglets and Angel could see those if he wanted.

"I'd never say no to seeing a baby animal." Angel had answered. 

He ended up leaving with the runt of the litter. A dog it was not, but pigs were smarter and could be vicious in their own right. Maybe it would be good enough. It was cute anyway, and for now it was small enough to fit indoors. 

"Alright, I don't know what you eat but the pig is off limits!" Angel called out to the woods. 

A rattling sound answered, and the creature breached the trees into the small clearing the cabin was in. Angel quickly stepped back within the safety of the doorway. The radio flickered.

**Eat. Everything. Eat. You.**

"No." Angel replied, chuckling. "I don't know you like that buster." Even though it wasn't the smart thing to do to provoke something with teeth the size of pencils, Angel was glad he could make those sorts of jokes. Not like the monster was about to go running to tell the cops about 'indecent behaviors.'

The deer shook his, Angel was fairly sure it had to be a his, head and growled. 

**Vulgar.**

"Can we try for a full sentence?" Angel teased.

**Radio. Limited.**

Angel clicked his tongue and thought. He'd just relished in his own ability to speak freely, albeit in a very secluded space. It must have been difficult to be physically unable to do so. This thing, whatever he was, was smart. Smart enough to be a person, and Angel had started to consider him as such even if they weren't very friendly to one another.

"Alright, hang on. Lemme test somethin'." Angel said, retreating to his room but leaving the front door open. He picked up the radio and tuned the dial to rest between stations and turned the volume up. He then took it with him, not needing to be plugged in for the creature to be able to affect it. He set it in the doorway. "How's that treat'cha?"

The static wavered, then morphed into faint words. A specific voice sounded. Different from the borrowed voices from clips of speech and song that he'd been using to communicate. Instead it was all one voice, garbled and faded, but complete.

_Still difficult, but better. I suppose for this I won't eat the pig. Too small anyway._

"Great." Angel said, watching the pig explore the floor. 

_You are still a fair hunt._

"Yeah, only if i leave the house while you're awake!" Angel laughed. "You got a name by any chance?"

_Alastor._

"I'm gonna call you Al."

Alastor let out a disgruntled snort at that, but allowed it. He then wandered away, and Angel shut the door. The radio fell silent, so Angel plugged it in and tuned it to the channel he favored, a mix of swing and lively jazz. He spent a while getting the pig acclimated to his new surroundings, then started dinner. He was just finishing cooking when the radio fell to static again.

Alastor was back, dragging a still-live alligator by its tail. The reptile thrashed angrily, trying to bite and whipping its tail. Alastor let it struggle for a bit, making sure Angel was watching before clamping his jaws around the back of the gator's head. It stilled, and Alastor dropped it to begin ripping it apart. 

Angel would not be intimidated, opening the door and sitting on the floor with his plate in his lap. "Joinin' me for dinner today, huh? Ain't you sweet." Angel challenged. 

_One mistake._ Alastor warned and made a point of eating loudly and messy. He even went so far as to crunch through bones. It was a disgusting display, but Angel had seen the torture of plenty of people. His stomach didn't even turn. 

"Yeah, yeah. I get unlucky and you'll make me into nuggets. Huh," Angel thought, glancing at the pig that was wisely hiding from Alastor behind Angel's back. "How's that for a name, piggy? You're a fat little nugget aren't'cha? Fat Nuggets sound good to you?" Angel cooed, picking the piglet up, and it oinked at the attention. Angel fed him a bit of greens before returning his attention to the deer. "You should get a vegetable or two in there." Angel suggested. "Do you think I could grow tomatoes around here? I ain't tried gardenin' but I can try."


	5. Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Alastor have come to an unplanned and reluctant sort of truce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for attempted assault but it doesn't get anywhere.

It had been a couple months now and Angel was thriving. He had also discovered no one would think him crazy if he mentioned Alastor. The creature was apparently something of a local legend that served mostly as a warning not to go in the woods at night. As with all legends of the sort, there were believers and doubters. They called him Mr. Meurtrier, meaning murderer. Angel never mentioned seeing Al, but he did listen in on the occasional warning stories he heard. The stories were cropping up due to more tourists showing up. It was expected, as Mardi Gras was toward the beginning of March this year. 

Angel had heard of Mardi Gras vaguely, but it was interesting to see how the people who actually participated were handling preparations for it. He was on board, even if he didn't quite understand the significance of all of it. A party was a party and Angel was always glad for the excuse to have a little extra fun.

"Always a few fearless drunks go missing in the woods around this time." Husker had said, half a warning to Angel. 

"I've been fine this whole time." Angel had dismissed.

While Angel could respect the fact that Alastor _was_ perfectly capable of being dangerous, it was hard to still truly be afraid of him. 

Alastor had switched tactics from trying to inspire fear to being the biggest nuisance he could. His goal still seemed to get Angel to vacate the cabin permanently, but Angel was stubborn and it only made him want to stay all the more.

"Would you stop fuckin' with the station? I'm tryin'a listen to the news." Angel huffed, sitting at the table now that he had proper furniture. The radio was on the table as well, and Angel tuned it back to the news he had been trying to focus on.

The dial turned right back to Bing Crosby's Pocket Full of Dreams. 

Angel huffed. "I wanna hear what's goin' on, jackass." He turned the dial. It turned itself back. "I should get a fuckin' record player. Bet'cha can't do shit with that."

The dial tuned to static for Alastor to speak; _No news on a record._ Then it tuned right back to music. 

Angel wasn't usually even one to bother with news stations but he had heard New York mentioned and was curious about what might be going on back north. He hoped his siblings were okay. He still hadn't written them. It still felt too risky to do so. Part of him hoped that maybe the Family had come to the conclusion that he was dead. The other part didn't want Molly to cry over him. Especially when he was happy down in Louisiana, irritating neighbor aside.

"I missed what I wanted to hear cuz of you." Angel groused, picking up the broom and chucking it out the open door at the other. 

It bounced harmlessly off of the bony snout, and Alastor looked like he may have been quietly laughing. He certainly looked amused in any case and Angel wasn't sure when he had learned to read an animal skull's expressions so accurately. Of course, body language was a key factor; The large ears were very telling at times.

 _You could just go invade someone else's home and listen to the news station there._ Alastor suggested cheekily. He had stopped the death threats but Angel knew it wasn't off the table. Probably a lure to a false sense of security but Angel wouldn't be so easily fooled.

"You can't even fit in the door." Angel huffed. "And it was a dump before I got here anyway."

Mardi Gras was officially under way on the ninth of the month and Angel only had to work a few hours of the morning before Husker closed shop for the day. Loud jazz was played by street musicians and everything in sight was colorful. Later in the day a parade would be due, Angel had been told. He found the girls from the hidden bar, and hung out with them a while before Cherri found him. 

He'd met Cherri at the speakeasy too but on a separate night and they had clicked immediately. He loved her to death already, like another sister he hadn't had before. She was also his cover for when women asked him if he had a girl at the shop. Likewise she had used him as a cover when people kept asking her why she wasn't married yet. Between the two of them there was never any pressure to be anything but what they were; A couple of messes just trying to get through life.

Day became night before Angel realized. He'd made the mistake of taking PCP and then later drinking when he thought it had worn off. He hadn't even drank much but the ambient drugs still in his system had him crossfading. 

"Think I'm gonna head home." Angel decided, wobbling a bit.

"You gonna make it, Angie?" Cherri worried.

"Yeah, I just gotta lay down." He assured, waving his hand. "I'll be fine by tomorrow."

He left her to head along the river toward the woods. It was already dark out but if he ran fast enough he could make it to the cabin before Alastor even noticed, he was sure. He'd done it the first time. A secondary set of footsteps caught Angel's attention, and he wondered how long he'd been followed.

"What." Angel turned, seeing a man he hadn't met before.

"Caught word you're the resident whore for guys like us?" The man called bluntly. It was far enough out of town to drop pretenses. Still, it was strange for anyone to talk so openly even if they were in an out of the way space.

Angel was tired, and while the few men at the speakeasy who paid him for such things were aware of his identity by now he knew strangers were dangerous. There was also a chance that the stranger could be a cop trying to bait him. Even crossfaded Angel could keep that in mind.

"Not feelin' up to it." Angel said, walking away and leaning against trees where available to keep himself steady. The stranger continued to follow him. "Will you fuck off? Stalkin's pathetic." 

Offense was clearly taken to that as Angel found himself shoved against a tree, the bark scraping his face as the stranger crowded him and pinned his arms behind his back. He kicked back, but being a bit dizzy and uncoordinated it didn't help much. 

"Get the fuck off me." Angel hissed. 

"Just be qui--What the fuck is _that?!_ " The stranger cut himself off, instantly letting Angel go.

Angel fell limply to the ground, rubbing his wrists and then his face. He heard the familiar rattling groan, followed by screaming and then sudden silence. Alastor had arrived and crushed the stranger in his jaws, blood oozing over his teeth. He made quick work of his meal, leaving nothing more than a bloody puddle behind. It was a fearful sight, but Angel felt too shaky to stand now. He closed his eyes instead, not wanting to see those large teeth tear into him next.

There was no bite. Alastor didn't even touch him, and Angel opened his eyes. Without the radio Alastor couldn't speak but he did let out an odd sort of snort before stepping over Angel and heading further into the woods toward the cabin. After a few minutes, Angel managed to get his legs to carry him home. He didn't bother trying to sneak past the large deer, knowing Alastor had had an opening and hadn't taken it. Instead he paused, just outside of the door. He wanted to ask why Alastor had spared him, but it didn't seem like the right thing to say.

"Thanks." He said instead.

Alastor's ears turned backward, and even though he could use the radio now he didn't reply.


	6. Appearances Aren't Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a conversation.

Angel woke up horribly hungover. It wasn't helped by the large red light set deep in an eyesocket peering through the window at him. He quickly pulled the blanket up to cover his chest, having gone to sleep without a shirt. 

"Damn how's the peeping, Tommy?" Angel snapped before realising some horrific woodland god or whatever Alastor was probably didn't care about human breasts.

 _Only checking to see if you were still alive._ Alastor said through the radio. _You came back in a state last night. Thought you might have choked in your sleep._

"Yeah, I'll bet." Angel huffed, pulling his window curtain closed and dressing.

Thankfully he didn't need to go to work right away. Still he had to get up to feed Fat Nuggets and take the pig outside. Nuggets had taken quite well to housetraining. The concerning thing was Alastor was still in sight. His teeth were still stained with blood, drawing Angel's memory to focus on the previous night.

"All that talk about waitin' for me to make a mistake." Angel muttered. "You're a big fuckin' softy, ain't'cha?" 

Alastor picked his head up to glare at Angel, then shifted to watch the pig wander about the clearing. The lights in his eye sockets flickered every so often, almost like he was blinking. Angel gradually stepped closer, trying to make his approach seem accidental. Of course when he got within range he could smell an all too familiar coppery tang mixed with older rotting scents layered on top of each other. 

"You smell weird." Angel mumbled idly, causing Alastor to make that odd rattling noise Angel was coming to recognise as annoyance. "Probably that bastard you ate." 

Alastor chuffed, shaking himself and freeing fallen leaves from his shaggy fur before walking away. Testing the other's tolerance, his luck, and perhaps fate, Angel put Nuggets back in the house and grabbed the radio. He quickly followed Alastor, listening to the static pick up and waver. A few fragments of sounds from various stations clipped through, not saying anything but clearly reacting to Alastor's thought processes. 

Alastor stopped at a creek, a small branch off from the main river. He stomped in it a few times as if checking for something, then promptly flopped sideways into it with a splash. 

_I'm sure you'll forgive the lack of soap._ Alastor said after levelling the static. _Do you often find yourself at the mercy of strange men?_

If Alastor had meant the question to sting, he succeeded.

"That's kinda fuckin' personal." Angel huffed, sitting on a large rock nearby. "Usually I can handle my shit better but I was kinda fucked up already." 

_You're not bothered?_

"By what?" Angel asked. "I'm kinda pissed he got me pinned but not that it was a guy. I like men. Thought you figured that out by now."

 _I had a suspicion._ Alastor admitted, laying on his side and sprawling to let the stream of water wash the dried blood from him. Of course with his size, he had to raise up every so often to avoid damming the creak.

"You ain't bothered?" Angel decided to echo.

 _I'm hardly in a position to be passing judgement._ Alastor answered.

"So…" Angel began, wondering what he had done in his life to be watching a giant monster taking a bath in the woods while talking relationships. Oh well. Life was weird. Best to embrace it. "You got a doe then? Or a buck?"

Alastor paused his rolling in the water to stare at Angel, ears low and eyes narrow. _I hold no attraction to animals. Deer are food. Most things, actually, are food._

"So you ain't an animal." Angel acknowledged. He had already assumed as much. Alastor was too smart, could speak, and knew about things like news and radios and record players and soap. "You're what. Some old forest god everybody forgot about?" He decided to voice his earlier guess. Tapping the bit of technology in his lap he added another guess. "Or some kind of radio demon?"

Alastor shook his head, quiet a while before answering. _I was a man._

"Oh." Angel looked at his hands in his lap, picking at his nails. He supposed he should have guessed as much. Then his brow furrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well quit peekin' in windows when I ain't decent!"

 _I have no interest or opinion of nudity._ Came the very dry-toned reply.

He considered asking how Alastor had become what he was now, but it didn't feel like his business. With the new information and the fact Alastor had been so adamant that Angel had taken over his house, Angel remembered the photograph in the lockbox. Husker he knew, but the other young man must have been Alastor before he'd become large and spooky.

"You actually lived in the cabin, huh?" Angel mumbled. "I been thinkin' it was just some territorial shit but that actually is your house. No wonder you want me out."

 _It would be quiet without you._ Alastor said, and Angel almost felt touched before he continued. _Someone needs to keep the radio in working condition. Ten years without music is a Hell._

Angel sighed as he processed how he would handle ten years without anything. If Alastor had been in the woods living as a giant monster all that time then he had gone without music, news, people, cooked meals, or even a simple roof to keep the rain off. If Angel had to deal with such a great loss he'd have probably just laid down somewhere to die. He said as much.

 _I'm not allowed to die._ Alastor answered, and given everything else Angel had just learned it didn't sound like a joke.


	7. April Showers

Angel was doing well. He'd gotten a new car. The tomato plant Angel had started was growing well, although he kept finding mysteriously empty stems.

 _I haven't touched your silly tomatoes._ Alastor denied when asked. _I am a carnivore. There are other animals besides me. Put up a fence if you want a garden._

Alastor wasn't exactly kind, but he was no longer trying to chase Angel away or kill him. On a good day, Angel was even starting to consider the woodland horror a reluctant friend. Alastor had grown on him once the death threats stopped. They even had real conversations once every now and then, though those ended quickly if Angel tried to ask Alastor about anything from when the deer had been human.

So Angel told Alastor about himself instead. It wasn't often he could speak freely about life in a mafia family. He spoke frequently about his siblings, missing them more every day. Scorn at the way his father handled the business and the business itself. Regret for leaving so suddenly.

"I really should've planned better. Least then I could've told Archie and Molly goodbye." Angel sighed, having sat outside with the radio to eat his breakfast.

Alastor was across the clearing, pretending not to listen although his ears gave him away. One was swivelling about, listening to the forest as a whole but the other hadn't left Angel's direction since he'd started talking.

"You got any brothers or sisters?" Angel tried.

 _A brother. But it hardly matters now._ Alastor answered, but made it clear he wasn't going to be elaborating. Between the admission and the photograph, Angel could guess that the unspecified brother was probably his boss, Husker.

Alastor then yawned, a not-so-subtle hint for Angel to shut up and let him sleep. His tongues curled in the action like a cats, which Angel almost thought cute until he noticed there were more than one of the black tendrils in the deer's mouth. It was a bit freaky, but Angel was getting weirdly used to seeing odd things by now. It had been months, after all.

Still, the conversation was clearly over so Angel finished eating and went inside to get ready for work. The clouds were grey, and he wanted to get to the shop before it started pouring.

It was a slow day. Heavy rain always made people want to run errands less. Everything in the shop was clean and in order and there was only so many times Angel could count things just to get the same number every time. His mind wandered to Alastor, wondering if he had shelter somewhere big enough for him to hide from the downpour. He hoped so, but it was probably a stretch. 

"If you glare at the bread any harder it's gonna turn into toast." Husker warned, drawing Angel out of the spaced-out state he had fallen into. "You feeling okay kid?" 

Angel shrugged. 

"You can go for the day if you want. Not much business. Might want to get home before a fucking storm hits." Husker advised.

"Sure." Angel agreed, reaching over the counter to grab his umbrella. He paused, looking at his boss. "That picture I found for you, could I see it real quick?" 

"I don't have it on me." Husker deflected. "What the fuck do you want with it anyway?" 

"The guy in the picture. I'm livin' in his house. I figured I should know somethin' about him."

"He was okay at first, cracked at some point, killed people, and got hunted down and shot for it." Husker said bluntly. "He's dead now so leave it the fuck alone." 

Angel obliged, if only because it clearly seemed to be a sore spot for Husker. He left the shop, running to his car. He hated storms and didn't want to be in it longer than he had to. He drove home quickly, having to stop the car a ways off from the cabin as the trees were too dense for the car to get through. He ran the rest of the way, having grown accustomed to the uneven terrain by now.

Alastor was right where he'd been before, shaggy fur soaked and bones glistening from the falling water. He was awake, and probably hadn't slept much at all that day. Angel frowned at the sight. 

"I'd invite you in but…" Angel began, trailing off. There was no way Alastor would ever fit in the cabin. 

_I'm used to this._ Came the radio's reply after Angel had gone inside. 

Rain was one thing, but Angel couldn't stand storms. The power had gone out, nothing working aside from the radio which was powered by the fact Alastor was still awake and nearby. It didn't do nearly enough when the thunder got louder. There was no way Angel was going to be able to deal with the flashes of lightning when the storm inevitably got worse. Not sober at least, but he still had some peace stashed away in a drawer.

The next few hours were a pleasant blur, much of which was spent staring out of the window until he was suddenly outside and climbing in between large forelegs with no regard for how wet his clothes and the rest of him was getting. A warning growl answered the action, but there was no effort made on Alastor's part to remove the sudden pest. 

The next morning Angel was still there, shivering with fever and very nauseous. The weather was better now but Angel was certainly under it. In any case he wasn't going to make it to work today. He crawled out from under Alastor's neck and over a foreleg, realizing as he did so that Alastor laying his head over him had probably kept him from the worst of the rain. 

"Should have a barn built." Angel muttered, pushing himself up. Unfortunately the sudden movement caused him to wobble, and he keeled over.

Alastor sighed, rolling his eyelights and picked Angel up by the back of his shirt to carry him to the door. Angel made his way the rest of the way in, collapsing in bed.


	8. Fever Dream

Angel faded in and out of consciousness for a while, getting up once to vomit. All the while soft music played and he was aware during waking moments that Nuggets had snuggled up to him. He was exhausted, but glad for the small comforts. His dozing was restless for the most part but he eventually did manage to sleep. 

He was walking through the forest, familiar to him now. The morning sun shone through the trees and dried leaves crunched under his bare feet. Not far he saw Alastor, awake even though it was clearly past his usual time of turning in at dawn. Angel called out to him, but the large and macabre caricature of a deer bounded away and out of sight further into the trees. 

Angel followed, desperately trying to keep up even though he had long since lost sight of the other. He could still hear the hoofbeats, even when the quadrupedal gait became bipedal footsteps. Still Angel followed his ears, rewarded with playful laughter just as he breached the treeline.

It was a new clearing, smaller than what the cabin was in. Several glass bottles hung from the surrounding trees, many holding faded scraps of written-on paper, coins, hair, and other odds and ends. Fireflies illuminated them, reflecting and lighting the area dimly.

_Hadn't it just been daytime? Angel wondered briefly._

"What is important to you?" Asked a voice Angel had only heard from his radio and never clearly, finally paired with a face he had only seen once in a photograph that wasn't in color. 

The man was seated at the center of the clearing, and overturned log that had been flattened at the top in front of him like a makeshift table. On it were small bones, insects, and a few playing cards that weren't nearly enough to make a deck. He grinned widely, his head tilted as if he were trying to understand the answer that Angel hadn't yet given.

"Al?"

"While I appreciate the flattery, that is not at all what I mean." Alastor answered.

Angel's first thought was family, since that had been drilled into him from birth. But he'd left them behind and still hadn't written. His second thought was friends, but those were a different sort of family and while the few he'd made were important, it felt like Alastor was asking something more profound. 

"I don't know." He finally said. "The fuck do you want me to say?"

"Well, don't sound so angry." Alastor tutted, standing and pacing the perimeter of the space. He considered one of the bottles before untying it and offering it to Angel. "This one was mine." 

It was a brown bottle, one of the ones with paper in it, but oddly also had a chicken foot tied around the neck of it with twine. He tipped the bottle, sticking in his pinky finger to try to get the paper out to read it but suddenly the thick glass shattered in his hands. It sliced through his skin, bringing forth far more blood than such a wound warranted. A blackened hand clutched his wrist suddenly, red claws digging in and causing more blood to flow. He looked back up at Alastor, his heart pounding.

Alastor's appearance had changed. His brown skin had greyed out and his hair had straightened out and partially reddened, though the tips were still black. His eyes had become the bright glowing red Angel was used to, familiarity spawning with the sprouted ears and still-growing antlers. Even the sharp teeth set in the smile stretched too wide for any human face should have been unsettling, but Angel was used to seeing worse.

"If this is another damn scare-tactic I thought we was past this." Angel stated, idly noticing Alastor's eyes were the only light now; The fireflies had vanished. 

"We both know you aren't afraid of me." Alastor replied, bringing one of Angel's hands to his mouth to lick away the blood, probing the cut with his tongue for a moment.

"Gonna give a guy ideas…" Angel muttered. 

"Oh?" Alastor ceased the action, tilting his head in what seemed to be honest curiosity. "What sorts of ideas?" 

The taste of his own blood wasn't so bad coming from Alastor's mouth, but the sting of rejection still hit him as Alastor quickly backed away. Alastor stared, making Angel feel as if he was being studied. 

"You're strange. You know what I look like now." Alastor stated, gesturing to himself and his form that was only just humanoid. "You know _this_ isn't real."

"Been called worse for less." Angel shrugged. "You're a man any which way, ain't'cha?" 

"Many would argue." Alastor pointed out, and in the span of time it took Angel to blink Alastor was large and deerish again.

And then Angel blinked again, looking up at the ceiling and feeling woozy still from the medicine he had taken just before laying down. Clearly he'd been dreaming, but it had seemed so vivid. He rolled onto his side and groaned, regretting it as his throat was raw. He'd coughed a lot clearly, but it hadn't woken him. He sat up, leaning over as his vision clouded for a moment. He let it pass before slowly standing and tapping the radio.

"If you're gonna be in my head, ask first." Angel huffed hoarsely.

_I'm sure I don't know what you mean._ The radio crackled.

Angel rolled his eyes and slowly staggered into the kitchen to get himself some water. He gulped down the glass, suddenly realizing he was thirstier than he'd thought. He glanced to the window, finding it darker than he expected it to be outside, and he watched the rolling clouds as he considered. Alastor could be telling the truth and Angel's mind had only provided a very creative dream, or Alastor was deflecting.

Angel decided he would look for the clearing with all of the bottles. If it existed he would know the dream had been real. Besides, he still wanted to read whatever it was in Alastor's bottle. It would have to wait, however. He would have to go when he felt better.


	9. An Odd Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel goes back to work and then on a tiny bit of a quest.

Angel came back to work after a few days, apologizing and explaining he'd been sick. Husker was understanding, in his own way. 

"You haven't missed a single day since you got here." Husker pointed out. "I was starting to think Mr. Meurtrier got to you."

"Who says he hasn't?" Angel chuckled. "Nah, I had a cold or somethin'. Caught in the rain. Speakin' of which, I was thinkin' of puttin' up a barn. The pig's gonna grow."

"I said to get a _dog_." Husker grunted but didn't seem too invested either way. "Good luck keepin' livestock alive."

"That's why I'm tellin' you about the barn idea. I figure you might know somebody." Angel elaborated. "I've done patchjobs but I don't know how to put up a whole damn building."

"Nobody's stupid enough to start a project like that in the fucking woods. Except you, apparently." Husker shook his head, scruffing his beard with his hand before clearly debating something with himself. "Let me talk to some folks. No promises." He finally said later just before Angel's shift for the day was over. 

Angel wasted no time getting home. He fed Nuggets and walked him quickly, taking notice of the fact that the radio was silent and Alastor nowhere in sight. He was probably sleeping since it was still daylight out, and Angel figured that was good since it would give him a headstart in looking for that clearing lined with hanging bottles. He was sure it must really exist. He just had to remember how to get to it.

It was well past dark when he finally found it, the sideways log in the center well past rotting and covered in moss and mushrooms. Several bottles littered the ground under where most still hung, different types of string clearly made to last longer than others. In the dream everything had looked new, but reality wasn't as pretty.

"Brown bottle with a creepy fuckin' bird foot." Angel reminded himself outloud, scanning the area.

The closest he found was a bottle that mostly looked like it was right, although instead of the chicken foot there was a single small bone tied around the neck. None of the others were as close though, and the bone might have been what was left after the rest of the bird foot rotted off so Angel took the bottle down and shoved it in the inside pocket of his jacket. 

He could hear hoofsteps approaching and the telltale rattle of Alastor breathing nearby. Even if there was no radio to speak through here, Angel could guess that Alastor might be a little annoyed at him. A little. Not enough to eat him, clearly, as he remained passive when Angel followed his ears to find him. Why show Angel where this place was if he didn't want Angel investigating, right?

Alastor flinched minutely when Angel reached up to pat his elbow, but accepted the gesture and didn't pull away when Angel gently gripped onto the coarse fur. A creature equivalent of taking his arm, or even perhaps holding his hand. It was a bit forward, Angel realized after he had done it, but to Alastor it inexplicably made him feel just a bit less like a monster. Angel had already told Alastor that he was still a man, but it was one thing to say it and quite another to put in the effort to actually treat him as such. Taking the given opportunity to be a gentleman, Alastor escorted him home. 

Angel heard the static of the radio picking up through the window he always left cracked to let a breeze in and lat Alastor hear him when he was indoors. Angel went inside, taking the bottle out of his coat and uncorking it. Alastor didn't see, but he did hear the pop of the cork as Angel pulled it out.

_Nosy._

"Hey, if you didn't want me findin' it you shouldn't have shown me where it was." Angel pointed out. "Can't tell me you didn't make me dream shit now, buster. I'm onto your shit."

_I showed you where it was. I never told you to remove it._ Alastor pointed out as Angel shook the rolled up scrap of paper out. 

He unrolled it, finding written words that were faded and messily scrawled. It was difficult to actually read, Angel having to struggle for much longer than usual before he finally realized what exactly he was looking at.

"It's a fuckin' jambalaya recipe!" Angel snapped, feeling just a bit cheated out of some grand mystery.

_It's my mother's handwriting._ Alastor pointed out.

Angel stilled, suddenly understanding. He missed his mother too, even if he barely remembered her. If he had something in her handwriting he'd probably want to keep it. It was also just further proof that Alastor had been human, not that Angel had any doubts. What he wouldn't give just to talk to her a while, and Alastor probably had the same wish. Well, there was a next best thing.

Angel looked over the ingredients list and copied it down in the little notepad he used for grocery lists. Luckily it looked like he could get everything at the general store he worked in. He'd need a bigger pot though, or three, and also a large washtub but he liked cooking and it would be fun to cook for more than just himself again. For now, however, he had just one more nagging question.

"I gotta ask or it's gonna bug me. What's with the bird foot?"

_It was from a chicken. Chicken feet are protective._ Alastor answered plainly, as if he expected it to be common knowledge.

"You're fuckin' weird."

_You wear your deity's cause of death on your body constantly._ Alastor replied dryly. _Let's not throw stones over religious practices._

It took Angel a second to realize that Alastor meant his cross he kept on a necklace and realized when things were put in that context it was a bit weird to wear it. Everything about his life was weird lately. He was getting used to it. At least he could never say he was bored.

"The deity's son actually but you got a point." Angel conceded.


	10. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Alastor share a meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was drunk when I wrote half of this but at least i wrote something.

"It don't say how many jalepeños to put in." Angel pointed out, squinting over the recipe. 

Nuggets oinked expectantly, and Angel flicked the wooden spoon so the pig had something to lick off of the floor. 

_Whole jar_ Alastor supplied. 

"Between the three pots?" Angel asked, because surely that couldn't be right. Nobody could eat something that hot.

_Per pot._ Alastor corrected.

"Tryin' to fuckin' kill me." Angel muttered, but followed the instruction. He was doing a friend a favor after all. "Nothin's measured on this thing." Angel continued to read, and after a moment had to ask again. "How much tabasco?"

_Whole bottle._

"If this is a joke I'm makin' you eat it anyway." Angel grumbled, but shook the entire bottle out. A glance out the window let him know Alastor was laughing.

_You do know that the food wasn't the point of the bottle, right? I wasn't setting up some scheme just to get you to cook. You don't even have to._

"I know. It's your Ma that's the point." Angel answered. He did understand, at least in part. "But I wanna cook anyway." There was one bit that nagged him though. "You said just the one bottle's yours. So other people put the others up. What's with that?"

_It's something like prayer. They mean different things to different people. Questions, offerings, and blessings. An attempt at them at least._ Alastor explained dismissively. He sounded somewhat bitter, but resigned.

Angel recalled the chicken foot, meant to be a protective charm but one that had rotted away. He frowned, thoughtful as he stirred the pot. He knew he still didn't have the whole story, but he could guess at some details.

"Your prayer went ignored, huh?" Angel asked, and then realized how insensitive it was to just ask so bluntly.

_Mama was sick. Loko ignored me, and the the Baron took her far too soon._ Alastor explained, stunted and only leaving more questions.

"Well, God don't listen to me neither. Maybe I oughtta try your way." Angel said, recognising the similar situation even past the clear difference in beliefs. "Too much blood on my hands, I guess." He admitted, knowing it was safe to be open about it. Who else did Alastor have to tell anyway?

_Well you're in good company._ Alastor answered, almost inaudible under the radio's static. 

From there the conversation moved on, shifting from Angel's life before he'd decided to leave it and Alastor's life before he'd become what he was now. Their respective families. The things their siblings did that annoyed them. What they missed.

_You should write to your brother and sister._ Alastor suggested. _You still have them._

"Yeah…" Angel nodded. "It's probably been long enough."

Once the three pots were done cooking he scooped out a bowl for himself and dumped the rest of the three pots into the tin washbin before struggling to drag it outside. Alastor pointed out that it may have been wiser to put the washbin outside first and then bring the pots. 

"Well I'm doin' it the hard way!" Angel huffed, committing to the choice as he couldn't lift the bin to pour the food back into the pots. "Too late now!"

Alastor laughed, watching Angel struggle a moment before nudging him out of the way to hook a lower fang under the handle of the bin to pull it. He didn't eat right away, waiting patiently for Angel to bring out his bowl as well as a blanket to sit on. He took a second trip to bring the radio out as well. Alastor settled after Angel did, one foreleg just barely on the blanket. Angel scooted so that his own knee would touch, not entirely meaning to but noticing that Alastor didn't react by flinching as he so often did.

Alastor let Angel take the first bite, still insisting they were at his home which made Angel his guest. Angel was surprised that it wasn't as spicy as he expected. There was still a burn to his tongue but the celery and rice had done its part to even out the rest. After that Alastor dug in, much more politely than he usually ate. 

It wasn't often that Angel felt truly relaxed without chemical help, and it wasn't often that Alastor didn't feel alone. But sharing a meal outside, tossing a scrap or two to the waddling piglet and just talking, both felt that they could stay this way forever. 

"He's kinda rough but I think he's just not used to talkin' to people." Angel rambled to Cherri at the speakeasy. He'd had three drinks already and was on his fourth. "He's secretly a sweetheart under all the bullshit. I like the guy."

"I gotta meet him." Cherri chuckle. 

"I get the feelin' he hates meetin' new people or I'd let'cha. Got a bite to him…" Angel snickered at his own joke, having the privilege of knowing just how literal his latter statement was.

"You're not really my type. I'm too old for you anyway." Husker gruffed as he had been half-listening for a while, pointedly eyeing Travis as he said so. "And I know where you've been."

"I ain't talkin' about _you_." Angel assured, realizing how it sounded without full context. "About that barn?"

"I'll have lumber out to your place in a few days, don't rush me kid." Husker gruffed.

"Don't you go either way? Guy's got a muff." Travis asked Husker, unwarranted.

Husker blinked, looked Angel over, then shrugged. He really didn't care. To Travis, he sternly stated. "Don't fucking out people."

"We're all some kind of queer here anyway." Travis huffed back.

"Nobody fuckin' asked you." Angel said as he braced against the bar and leaned to kick Travis's stool out from under him, and snickered in vindictive glee when the man smacked his chin on the counter in a failed attempt to catch himself.

"Well, you shouldn't talk so rude!" Nancy scolded Travis daintily, her small frame sitting on the counter instead of a stool since Husker let her, and her alone get away with such things.

"So… the guy?" Cherri prompted, getting back on track after the interuption.

"Wouldn't fuckin' work out anyway." Angel shrugged, circling back to his conversation with Cherri.

"What, is he straight?" Cherri asked. 

"I don't know." Angel shrugged. "I like him, but that ain't important… I just… I wanna help him." 

"With what?" Cherri asked.

"I don't fuckin' know." Angel admitted to that much, but he wasn't about to elaborate on the state of Alastor. He wasn't sure if that bit even could be fixed. He took another sip of his drink. "I'm still trying to figure that part out."


	11. The Bark is Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Husker get the barn started. Alastor's not too happy about the visit.

Winter had turned into a very rainy spring and soon it would be summer. A very hot summer, he'd been warned by a grumpy Husker as they unloaded lumber from the older man's truck. It wasn't enough for a whole barn but it was enough to get a frame up. It was a start at least. Once the wood was off of the truckbed and on the cleared space on the ground, Husker opened the front door to let a light brown hound out. She hopped out and immediately ran, though stopped and circled back at a quick whistle.

"Stay, Crymini." Husker ordered.

Angel noticed the radio, which he was used to hearing in the background of his life by now had silenced as soon as the dog was free. It explained why Husker had advised he get a dog, and also let Angel know that Husker knew more than he had said so far. 

"Won't the pooch get in the way?"

"She's not stupid." Husker answered. "Holes dug already?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't sure how deep to make them." Angel answered, showing Husker where he'd made the four narrow divots in the ground. 

It took hours, getting just the bare bones of the barn up. It was more work than two people could do easily, but Angel was determined and Husker was stubborn. They had three sides up before the sun started to dip. 

"Truck, Crymini." Husker called. 

"We're almost done!" Angel protested, knowing Husker meant to leave. Just one more frame. Don't even gotta nail this one, we can just tie it."

"Later." Husker grunted. "You're lucky or stupid or both but I'm not staying out here after dark."

Angel groaned, annoyed. He wanted to insist the other stay, just long enough to get the last frame upright since it was already put together. He didn't, because when all was said and done, Husker was doing him a favor and had no obligation to stick with it when he clearly wanted to postpone. _Postpone_ even, not just quit. It was more than Angel knew he had the right to ask for.

"Okay." He sighed. "Later."

Angel waved as the truck left before trying to continue by himself. Nothing doing there, because he couldn't pull the last of the frames up by himself. Not that he didn't put forth a good effort, nearly pulling a muscle in his shoulder.

The radio was still silent.

It had been hours.

Angel couldn't help but be worried, so he checked on Nuggets and made sure his pig was fine before picking the radio up. It was still unplugged; It always was since Alastor's presence was enough to keep it working. He walked to the clearing with the bottles first, assuming it was where Alastor would go to be away from everything. He wasn't there, but there was the faintest crackle from the radio.

"Huh." Angel said when he noticed, taking a step. The crackle silenced, so Angel tried the other way and grinned when he heard the static come back. It was a lot of trial and error, and almost felt like a game as he used the radio to track his friend. Like playing hot-and-cold and hide-and-seek at the same time.

With the radio's static picking up, Angel finally found Alastor and it didn't feel like a game anymore. His ears swiveled around manically, never resting. His sides were heaving and his legs visibly shaking under his weight. It was odd to see something usually so intimidating look so… _frail._

Underneath where he stood there were bones, long since picked clean by wildlife, bleached by the sun, and eroded over time. The skull of it was notably in pieces, an impact to the forehead clear. It was still recognizable as a human skeleton, and had clearly been there for a long time. Angel guessed it was probably one of Alastor's old meals, and decided not to look at it too closely. 

"Dog get to you?" Angel guessed.

Alastor didn't respond, but Angel didn't miss how the red lights in his sockets darted around, searching. Scared. It was answer enough.

"The dog's gone now. You're okay." Angel assured, shifting the radio under one arm and reaching up to touch the stag's elbow as both had gotten used to him doing.

Alastor took a step away, not wanting to be touched at all for the moment. It stung a bit, but Angel understood. He backed off, hand safely in his pocket. 

"I'll be home all tomorrow. Barn's started so soon you won't get rained on. Maybe we can get some work done by ourselves? The more we get done the less Husker'll have to come over!" Angel suggested, starting to leave Alastor since he clearly needed the space. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

_Wait._ The radio sounded, static almost covering the quiet request. 

So Angel stayed, in sight but out of arm's reach. A distance of about five feet felt right, so Angel sat and put the radio down to listen in case Alastor said something else. Instead the radio started cycling through music and news stations seemingly at random. It was a bit grating to Angel, but Alastor was visibly calming so he didn't question it. 

Finally, Alastor moved, taking a step toward Angel and lowering his head. Gingerly, Angel lifted his hand to his bony jaw, and felt Alastor's hot breath on his face as a heavy, shaky sigh left him through his nasal cavity. He'd seen Alastor laugh several times by now, and knew while it wasn't quite the same as human laughter that it was similar enough to know what it was. This had been the opposite. That was the sigh that came after a very draining cry. 

"You're alright, Al." Angel said quietly, hoping to convince them both. 

Alastor laid his snout in Angel's lap, the rest of his body lowering to the ground. Once the tension had left him he was exhausted, having been awake all day and stressed besides. Angel was tired too, and was sure he smelled off since he'd sweat through his clothes. Alastor didn't complain about it though, and like Hell Angel was about to push the other off of him. Instead he ran his hands over the ridge from Alastor's nose to the odd, x-shaped crack between his eyes and back again in an almost meditative manner. 

Angel's eyes drifted back to the old bones after a while. A who-knew-how-old dead body wasn't the best company to be having a moment around, so he suggested they go home. Alastor obliged, leading since without something to look for and it being dark out, Angel was hopelessly lost.


	12. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel has way too much on his mind.

It had been a simple letter. Just a short note to let his siblings know that he was alright. Nothing special. Nothing fancy. He hadn't left a return address. The most information he left about where he was was the fact he was somewhere warm. He'd written and sent it a few weeks ago and had nearly forgotten it between the general work, gardening, and barn building.

_Is sitting on my head entirely necessary?_

"How the fuck else am I supposed to get this beam straight? I ain't tall as you." Angel pointed out, having managed to talk Alastor into holding up said support beam with his antlers while Angel sat between his ears to secure it. 

The request had also been a subtle ploy to make sure Alastor would be able to fit through the doorway and that he could stand inside comfortably. It was a bit of a small space for one so big but it was meant to be a shelter and not a constant living space anyway. 

_You could invest in a ladder._

"Can't believe this. I build you a barn and you won't even let me sit on your face."

Alastor dipped his head, causing Angel to lose balance and slide off over his snout. It was purely luck that the hammer Angel had been holding didn't land on him, having hit the ground before he did. The beam stayed right where it was though, so Angel thought his comment was worth the probable bruise.

_I didn't ask for a barn._

"Lookin' damn pitiful in the rain is an ask." Angel reasoned. "And I don't feel like gettin' sick again."

_You wouldn't have gotten sick if you had stayed indoors instead of seeing fit to bother me in the middle of a storm._

"Oh, eat me." Angel snarked, standing and picking up his tools. 

Alastor rolled his eyelights, not as easy to see in daytime but still enough to show. His head shook and his ears slacked as an odd sort of hiss escaped his nose; Laughter. And Angel laughed with him until he was startling by the unexpectedly quick lunge from the stag. Suddenly he was on the ground again, flat on his back with large fangs very close to his legs.

_I could. You forget._ Alastor stated darkly, several black tongues creeping from his mouth to coil tightly around Angel's legs and drag him slowly closer to the teeth.

"I ain't forget." Angel said, quivering somewhat but not out of fear. "Just don't think you will."

_Won't I?_ Alastor challenged, the static in the radio rising but not obscuring his voice. Then he pulled back, tilting his head and turning one ear backward as he tucked his tongues back into his mouth and out of sight. _Are you blushing?!_

"No." Angel said, too quickly. "Maybe." He admitted a moment later. "You're blushing. Shut up." 

_I physically cannot blush._ Alastor stated dryly as he let Angel pick himself up and dust himself off. 

"No but your face does a thing." Angel deflected, picking up the radio and leaving the bare bones of the barn to retreat to the cabin. 

_It's a skull!_ Alastor pointed out indignantly. 

"It does a thing!" Angel insisted, despite the impossibility of bone showing any sort of emotion. 

Angel shut the door and rested his forehead against it. He really just didn't want to admit that he was flustered. Believing himself to be a man and being attracted to other men was something he was used to and he already knew he liked Alastor in an emotional sense. He really didn't want to consider the fact he had any sort of hots for a giant dear thing, especially with how big Alastor was there was no way to get frisky by any conventional means. But it was a fact. He did. And it shouldn't matter because he knew Alastor only tolerated him at best.

"The fuck is wrong with me?" He muttered to himself, stepping away from the door and setting the radio on the kitchen counter. 

The following morning, Angel stared intently out of his window. He was watching deer, real ones, picking the ripe tomatoes out of his garden. He watched how they moved, how they interacted with each other, and came to the conclusion that deer definitely didn't do anything for him. It was a relief. It was also a concern because that meant it was just Alastor. Maybe between the photograph and his brief appearance in Angel's dream as his human self was what caused that crossed wire. 

Having assured himself he wasn't a _complete_ freak, he finally left the cabin to chase off the invading herd before they could do anymore damage to his vegetables. Once the pests were gone he left for work, leaving out a pan full of the coffee he had made but hadn't bothered to drink. Alastor would find it before it got cold, he knew.

Arriving at the general store, he had a pretty average day. People came in, asked him where things were. He held himself back from arguing with the one little old lady who kept trying to return things she hadn't bought. He counted money, produce, cans of paint, and let his mind wander. 

"Anthony." Came a voice, following the jingle of the door. 

Angel's heart froze, and he turned to see his brother standing in the doorway. "Fuck." He said, not sure what else he could say. 

Husker was downstairs trying to fix a light, and Angel considered calling him. He didn't, because he knew Archie was armed and he really didn't want his friend getting shot. Archie took a step further into the store, toward his brother. Angel took a step to the side, and was glad when Archie mirrored his step. It left the door a little less blocked. 

"Listen, I just wan--Hey!" Archie began, but Angel rushed him, shoving him harshly and running out of the store and down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all want me to go full monsterfucker and have to change the rating? Cuz i might.


	13. Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Archie have a talk.

It was probably quite the odd sight for onlookers as Angel ran through the streets, headed for the woods in the most roundabout way he could manage. He was hoping if he could make enough turns he might just lose his brother given that he knew his way around better. Unfortunately he was out of the habit of keeping himself sharp on his feet and Archie was still in such a habit and could keep pace.

It was daylight and since it was a workday, Angel knew Alastor was most likely sleeping. A blessing and a curse. While he definitely could have done with something to scare his brother away from following him the whole way home, he also didn't want Alastor biting first and asking questions later. As much as he hadn't wanted to be found, he also didn't want Archie getting hurt or killed. 

Alastor was nowhere in sight though, so at least there was no danger there. It was all he had time to process before Archie finally tackled him, rolling them both across the ground. Angel twisted, jamming his elbow against the side of his brother's head and only felt mildly bad about it when hearing the pained grunt it got in response.

"How the fuck did you find me?" Angel asked.

"It's my job to find people." Archie said dryly, rolling his eyes and sitting up to take Angel's opened letter out of his inside coat pocket. He tapped the stamps on the corner. "Asked the post office where these came from. They said Louisiana. You're used to cities, and this is where the train station left off anyway. From there it was simple asking around. Changed your name again, I noticed." 

"God damn it…" Angel sighed, standing as well and turning toward the cabin. "Well come on in. Not like I can get rid of you now."

Angel opened the door, never locked since he knew if anyone other than him got this far into the woods that most likely Alastor would get to them first or wouldn't let them leave if they did get in. He let Archie into the kitchen, sitting at the small table.

Archie sat and crossed his arms, a deep groove set in his brow that made him look older than he was even though he was only four years Angel's senior. "You up and disappearin' just about started a fuckin' war. Dad was convinced one of the other Families snatched you for trade but nobody could find you with any of the workin' girls and no body left behind neither…"

"Well I've been workin' sometimes." Angel admitted. "Got a day job too. It's been great!"

"You need to come home." Archie said sternly.

"Home is here for me." Angel replied quietly. "Im actually _me_ here."

"Ain't we tried humorin' your confusion enough? We call you Anthony. I let you have my old clothes when I grew out of them. Even Dad gave you work to do." Archie tried to reason.

"I ain't confused, you fuckin' half-portion grifter." Angel snapped back.

"We been tryin'."

"Try harder." Angel said sharply. "Look, I'm livin' how I want. I haven't had to take bolt cutters to anybody's fingers when they honestly don't know shit. I have real friends. Got a guy I'm dizzy with that hasn't tried to talk me into bein' a woman even when he knows my body situation--"

"Won't last." Archie interrupted.

"Shut up." Angel returned. "I ain't leavin'. Just tell Dad I'm dead. I'm done."

_Would you like me to kill him for you?_ The radio sparked to life suddenly, though it was very obviously still unplugged. 

Archie startled, looking directly at the disconnected cord. "What the fuck?"

"It's just Al." Angel answered nonchalantly, before speaking a bit louder so he could be heard from the cracked window. "No eating my brother."

"What the _fuck_?" Archie repeated.

Angel pointed to the cracked window, and Archie hesitantly got up from his seat to look out, blanching as he did so. 

"What the fuck is that?" He asked as he saw the monstrous stag.

"That's the guy." Angel answered quietly, not wanting to risk Alastor hearing him say so.

Archie continued to stare out the window, trying to wrap his mind around the creature outside being the source of the voice in the radio that by all reason shouldn't even be functioning. He then looked to his brother and shook his head. 

"Now that ain't right."

"Well everything else I do is fuckin' wrong anyway, ain't it? He's a person, and honestly more of a gentleman than other guys I've been with." Angel grumbled, looking to the floor before his eyes drifted to the pig sleeping under the table. "I feel _okay_ here. I don't want to leave."

Archie sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face as he thought. Finally he came to a conclusion, though he visibly struggled with getting it into words. He settled for simple.

"I'll see what I can do. Ain't gonna say you're dead, that'd kill Molly. But…" He paused. "I'll think of somethin'." 

"Thanks." Angel breathed, and stood to hug his brother.

"Guys don't hug." Archie protested, trying to shove Angel away but not actually putting much effort into it.

"Tough shit, 'cause I do." Angel chuckled. Then let the other go to scribble down a note and hand it over. "I got somethin' for you to look into while you're here if you want. Since you're good at findin' people. Now get outta here. And when you leave the house do _not_ run."

"Why?" Archie asked, reading the note quickly before shoving it in his pocket. 

"Al's got a real fuckin' strong huntin' instinct or some shit. Runnin' just gives him somethin' to chase."

"And you're dizzy for that." Archie huffed, as Angel walked him out of the cabin and to his car. "You're a special kinda crazy, you know that?" 

"Keep your voice down. He don't know." Angel quickly shushed.

Not that it helped. Alastor's large ears were very sharp, and he had heard everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow you guys really want the boys to bone. Guess I'll get on that. Went ahead and bumped the rating to explicit.


	14. Workarounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Alastor get creative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all asked for it and I'm happy to provide

"If you're going to run out without calling me upstairs at least lock up." Husker gruffed when Angel returned.

"Sorry," Angel sighed.

"My fault." Archie admitted, providing an excuse since Angel had only run out because he was running from him. "Family emergency. Gonna hit the library, Anth-Angel. I'll let you know if I find anything." He said vaguely, then walked out with a halfhearted wave.

Husker raised a brow, regarding the new face. "Yeah, I'll bet." He said dryly, not buying it but not challenging it either. 

In any case Angel still got paid for the entire day and Husk checked to make sure he was alright after Archie left since it wasn't like Angel to just abandon his station. Angel assured him that everything was fine for the moment. Husker reminded Angel there was a shotgun under the counter in case of later scares, and Angel mentally thanked Husker's ability to read people so that he didn't have to admit he had been afraid at all.

Instead of bothering with the speakeasy, Angel went home right after his shift. He was worn out and didn't feel like dealing with too many people. He went to bed early, feeding Nuggets but only bothering with a bit of toast and applesauce for himself. Tomorrow was saturday and he would have work to do on the barn, so an early start was preferable. 

To his credit he did wake up early enough for it to still be dark out. He couldn't remember what exactly he'd been dreaming about but it must have been nice considering the state he woke up in; Hot and extremely bothered. He kicked his blanket off, not needing any extra warmth. 

With the mood he was in his fingers just weren't enough and he was just contemplating whether or not his sense of dignity was worth getting up and retrieving his hairbrush to use the handle. While he was considering it, Alastor's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

_I can smell what you're doing._ The radio crackled, and Angel froze as he remembered he always left the window cracked. He wondered if he should apologize and stop, but then Alastor spoke again. 

_Come outside?_

Angel squinted at the radio but did as asked, wiping his hands on his sheets and bringing the radio out with him.

"What. You wanna help?" Angel teased.

_Is that an option?_

Angel couldn't help when his blush deepened. He'd come to terms with the fact he had less than innocent thoughts about Alastor. Frequently. It was still embarrassing to be caught. Random men were a more familiar situation and he knew how to handle that but this was the first time he actually had feelings past purely physical for anyone. 

"How would we even--?" 

_I think you have an idea already._ Alastor stated, settling on the ground and lowering his face.

Angel was quickly reminded of Alastor's latest empty threat to eat him. It was easy enough to see what Alastor was suggesting by it but it was still hard for Angel to process that it was Alastor who had offered. 

"I'm still dreamin' ain't I?" He asked. He felt awake but this seemed a little too good to be true.

_No, we're both awake._ Alastored, gesturing with his snout to the space between his folded forelegs. 

Angel wasn't about to miss the opportunity and quickly stepped where the other requested and shed his nightshirt to sit on it instead of the bare ground. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever been bashful. Nervous yes, as there was always the chance a john could hurt him, but he knew Alastor wouldn't do that; If he wanted to hurt Angel he would have done so already. Still he felt vulnerable in a way he usually didn't.

Alastor's longest fangs were the length of pencils and as wide as Angel's palm, the comparison easy to make as he touched them. Alastor's face was all bone, but still warm on Angel's skin as held the large skull to his chest and kissed the ridge of his snout. It was different, but not at all unpleasant. Alastor gently nudged Angel to lay on his back, multiple tongues creeping out from between his sharp teeth to curl around Angel's thighs.

_I overheard your conversation, regarding me._ Alastor said softly, and Angel had the visceral realization that Alastor could talk just fine with his mouth otherwise occupied, as well as the fact that Alastor's hearing was even better than he had previously assumed.

"Ah, fuck…" Angel groaned. 

_It's mutual, although I don't understand it. You're strange._ Alastor said simply, one tongue grazing Angel's slit.

"You eat people." Angel returned surprising himself with the fact that it didn't put him off in the slightest. Still, neither of them had room to be judging one another.

A low growl started up deep in Alastor's chest, but it was far from threatening as one of his tongues pressed into Angel's slick opening. Angel gasped, raising his hips in response. He was worked up already but Alastor was in no rush, patiently exploring and watching Angel's reactions. 

"Damn, gimme another one? I can take two." Alastor's tongues were thin, but there were several and Angel couldn't help but want more now that they had started.

Alastor granted the request but moved both tongues that were inside the other independently, delighted by the fact it only made Angel's previously controlled noises far less quiet. A third tongue worked over Angel's clit and Angel reached for Alastor's snout just for the sake of having something to hold onto. 

"God, right there. You're hittin' it." Angel called out suddenly, breathlessly, when Alastor twisted his tongues a certain way.

Teeth grazed Angel's stomach as he gripped the edge of the other's snout closer but he trusted Alastor not to bite down. The tongues inside of him only worked faster, pressing up against that sweet spot ruthlessly now that Alastor had figured out exactly where it was. 

"Fuck, Al, I'm coming." Angel tried to warn as the wave crashed through him, his cunt pulsing around the tongues and his thighs tensing around either side of Alastor's nose.

Alastor growled as it happened, pleased instead of aggressive before he slowly withdrew. Angel whined at the loss but rolled onto his side, legs shaking.

_Are you alright?_ Alastor asked, audibly concerned. 

Angel snickered, finding the tone adorable. "I'm perfect." He took a moment to catch his breath, then pushed himself to sit up. "Your turn?"

_That may not be possible._

"Anything's possible if you don't know when to quit." Angel countered. "Roll over, babe. Lemme see what we're workin' with."

Alastor let out an amused snort, but rolled onto his side. He was hard already but only just peeking out of the sheath, dark and nearly blending into his black fur of his underbelly if not for the shine of self-lubrication. Angel gave it a curious touch, encouraging it to slowly slide the rest of the way out. Angel whistled.

Alastor's cock was proportional, not that Angel had doubted that. Although considering that meant it was about the length of Angel's leg and twice as wide around there was no way it was going to fit in him. That was fine. He'd figured that already and he was nothing if not creative. 

He started by running both hands gently across the underside, chuckling when Alastor twitched.

_I don't have hands, so…_ Alastor muttered, clearly self conscious of his obvious oversensitivity.

"Ain't been touched in ten years, huh?"

_Ever._ Alastor corrected, much to Angel's surprise.

Angel hummed at that, and pressed his hands a little firmer as he began to mouth at the tip, dipping his tongue into the slit. Alastor let out a keening sort of whine so Angel repeated the motion a few times, aware it was more teasing than actually helping. It gave him time to think, at least. 

"Okay I got an idea." Angel finally said, and maneuvered himself so that his thighs encircled the enormous shaft while Alastor stayed on his side.

Alastor, seeing what Angel was trying to do, gave an experimental thrust. Angel had to grab onto the stag's outer ribs to brace himself, but it was working out about as well as it could. 

"Should put up a high table in the barn so you can fuck me standing." Angel mused aloud, enjoying when Alastor let his baser instinct take over. He squeezed his thighs gently around the wet slide of the shaft between them. "Assumin' this is gonna be a regular thing"

Alastor only responded in a series of grunts and whistles, though the radio started flipping frantically through channels. Alastor finished quickly and without any warning, but Angel considered it cute even despite the sheer quantity of seed covering him and the ground. 

"If you got cum in my hair I'm gonna kill you." He joked.

_Probably horrible for the grass…_ Alastor answered, regarding the mess before sprawling out properly.

Angel tucked himself up against the other's throat, relaxed enough to doze off for a while.


	15. Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor takes a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short but I felt like doing something focused on Alastors perspective.

Alastor admitted to not understanding exactly how he felt or why. He'd gone from wanting his own space back to himself to actively seeking Angel's presence and attention. With Angel blatantly ignoring the danger that Alastor was, as well as going out of his way to do the creature favors, it was no wonder why Alastor had grown to appreciate him. 

The sex had been an unplanned surprise but Angel came home often smelling of other people and Alastor would admit, only to himself, that he was mildly jealous of the fact. He'd never been overly touchy but Angel was a noticeably tactile person. Alastor had meant it as a favor of his own, since he didn't have much else to offer. Then Angel had made it into a mutual gain and Alastor still felt he owed the other something. He just wasn't sure what. He'd been stripped of everything, including his very humanity. All he did have was his teeth and horns and the radio which belonged to Angel anyway. 

He waited for the naked body tucked against his body to wake up and watched as Angel went inside to get dressed for the day. Once the man was out of sight Alastor stood, kicking up a bit of dirt to cover the mess before leaving the yard. He took a walk, since he didn't want to sleep yet but he didn't have much better to do. It was a weekend which meant the chance of Husker showing up to help Angel with the barn and he didn't want his brother to see him. Especially since he kept bringing the damn dog. 

Alastor _really_ wanted to kick that thing.

Alastor also wanted to be _nowhere near_ that thing. Better to be out of the area entirely. Fatigue grew as he walked, visiting the rotting altar first, careful not to knock any bottles down even as the glass of the fallen ones crunched under his hooves. Nobody had hung any more in years, a direct result of Alastor haunting the area. It was still disappointing to see it becoming a ruin.

He laid down and stayed there a while, letting the sunlight burn on his skull as he let his thoughts stagnate. His form was tolerable, he mused, but the real torture was the boredom. He'd done it to himself, he knew. Disrespect and spite punished by unending indifference. 

And then there was Angel, crashing into his unwanted extension of life, breaking into his house, and staying put even when Alastor had done his best to chase him off. Completely unphasable. The one person, possibly in all of existence, that was just as stubborn as Alastor. Stubborn enough to become a friend even when Alastor hadn't wanted one. Maybe more, considering earlier in the morning. 

Definitely more. 

Glass clinked softly as the bottles were swayed by the wind, Alastor's ears turning in reflex. He stood, leaving the clearing. He continued a straight line toward the creek, drinking even though it was difficult to contain water past his bare teeth. He sniffed, seeing what else had been near the water lately. He hadn't hunted in a while, distracted as he was. Dying by starvation wasn't an option; He had tried. That didn't mean he still didn't get hungry.

It was harder to catch anything in the daytime, but he still managed to put a dent in the local population of coyotes. Partly to eat but also as a means of wish fulfillment since Husker's dog wasn't an option. He still had half of the day left after, but he was tired, and found himself naturally gravitating to an old skeleton. 

He always ended up here; His intended resting place. No matter if he actively tried to avoid it. At least he had stopped feeling it rot after all the flesh had gone, but it was still a stark contrast to the plantlife growing around the white bones. No grave. No flowers. No one standing to mourn aside from himself. So he stopped standing, lying down next to his own old bones with a rattling sigh. 

There would be no rest for him, but at least for a few hours he could sleep. 

He could sleep.

And Angel would be right where he'd left him when he got up.

He was so _tired…_


	16. Coercion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel corners Husker to ask him about Al.

Archie couldn't stay long without drawing attention from the Family so after handing Angel a small envelope he was on his way. Angel hated reading, seeing as it took him forever to properly focus on the words, but he'd asked for information and his brother had provided so he couldn't complain. What he had gathered was that Alastor had been a serial killer, disappointing but not surprising, and that he had been a radio host which explained why a radio was needed for him to be able to speak. 

What was surprising was that apparently Husker had been the one to put him down, heralded in the copied news clipping as a local hero. It explained Husker's alcoholism, but not why Alastor was a giant demon living in the woods. So Angel had waited until he and Husker were the only ones left in the speakeasy since Husker was closing it up and Angel had stayed to help him clean up as a means to corner him.

"Travis is getting clingy. Had to stop him following you after hours." Husker mentioned idly.

"I ain't worried." Angel shrugged. 

"You should be." Husker shook his head, dumping the opened bottles all into one container and stuffing it into the back of the freezer. "No goddamn sense in you."

"The fuck is that?" Angel asked, surprised and curious. 

"Whiplash." Husker said, as if that explained everything. At Angel's incredulous expression he elaborated. "It'll either cure a hangover or knock you the fuck out. Just depends how much of what ends up in it."

"You're gonna kill yourself for breakfast. Got it." Angel chuckled, teasing now that he understood.

"Don't judge me kid, I saw you let four guys bump cocaine off of your thighs two hours ago." Husker said dryly, though allowed a rare smile. "I got my reasons."

"I know." Angel said, more somber as he took the copied over papers out of his pocket. He handed them to Husk, who grimaced as he recognized the old words even though they were in new handwriting. 

"Why the fuck are you even looking into this? It's not your business." Husker gruffed, easily shifting from easy smalltalk to the hurt sort of anger that came from picking at past scars.

"I'm makin' it my business." Angel said, just as stubborn, holding the papers up. "Come on, you know reporters never tell the whole story."

"If you want a goddamn story read a fucking book and leave my life out of it." Husker shouted, shoving the younger man away from him before fishing a metal flask from his coat pocket.

Angel's back hit the counter but he stayed on his feet. He'd had worse in real fights so a little push was nothing. Certainly not from getting right back into the older man's space and snatching Husker's flask from him.

"Don't you wanna talk to him?" Angel asked.

"The hell are you talking about?" Husker asked, not even seeming sorry about the shove as he grabbed the flask back.

"Mr. Murder or whatever you call him."

"Meurtrier, and thats a myth."

"Then why bring the dog?" Angel challenged. "And why keep on my ass about being in the woods at night. You know there's somethin' out there. You know it's Al."

"Even if the damn thing is real, it's a weird, sick animal." Husker allowed. "It ain't him. He was human and he's _dead._ You keep his name out of your fucking whore mouth."

"Whore mouth's granted, but it's a fuckin' honest mouth." Angel shook his head. "Okay fine but whatever it is, he sure as hell likes jambalaya."

"Everyone likes jambalaya!" Husker argued.

"Look, just come home with me, leave the dog behind, and I'll show you!"

"Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?" Husker asked, his resolve starting to crack.

"Because I give a shit!" Angel spat. "I figure maybe it's a ghost situation. Maybe he's got business to take care of but can't and maybe talkin' to you might help him." 

Husker sat down in a stool, setting the flask down and putting his head in his hands. "If you're right, then what happens?" 

Angel took the stool next to him, picking the flask up and drinking from it himself. He winced at the bitter flavor of the cheap whiskey. He hadn't considered what might happen after. He'd been thinking, hoping, that maybe it would turn out like a fairy tale and that Alastor would be human again and they could live in the cabin together with the pig and their garden and everything would be fine.

But if it was like ghosts, then solving the problem would only give Alastor a way to pass on from this world.

Or maybe it would do absolutely nothing.

"I don't know." Angel answered honestly. "I just want to help."

"He doesn't deserve it." Husker said bitterly. "But fine. I'll humor you, crazy motherfucker."

"Great! I'll grab my hat!"

"I didn't say now!"

"Tough shit, I already swiped your truck keys." Angel said brightly as he stood from the stool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Husker that is Not Nice.


	17. Reunion

The truck pulled up as close as it could get to the clearing with the cabin, dense trees not letting it get too close and requiring some walking. Angel could tell Husker really didn't want to get out of the truck, requiring a shove and the threat of stranding to get going. Even once he did step out of the truck, he turned around to try getting back in as soon as a shrub moved.

"Give me my keys back."

"It was a rabbit or somethin', jumpy. Come on, you're with me. It's fine." Angel assured.

"You're fucking crazy." Husker grumbled.

"You ain't the first bastard to say so." Angel dismissed, coming around the other side of the vehicle to yank Husker out of it. After, reaching back into the truck to grab the bucket of whiplash.

Normally the woods were pretty noisy. The buzz of insects, birdcalls, and other such animal sounds were a constant, or were supposed to be. During the daytime it was still pretty noisy, but now it was silent aside from the wind through the trees. Even the distant yaps of coyotes was absent, since their population had recently decreased. Angel, having been brought up surrounded by concrete didn't see the issue. Husker, having lived his whole life in a rural setting, knew exactly what a quiet forest meant: Danger.

They walked to the barn, nearly finished, and the cabin. Angel put the bucket down and stepped indoors a while to grab the radio but came right back out. It wasn't plugged in, Husker noticed, but even so there was an unsteady stream of static falling out of the speakers.

"Quit hidin', I brought him here for you." Angel called out, looking around at the trees expectantly. 

Husker, wary, did the same. They waited for what wasn't that long of a time but felt like ages due to sheer suspense until the static crackled into words.

_I have nothing to say that he wants to hear._

And Husker knew that voice.

"The hell kind of sick trick is--" Husker began, somewhere between anger, fear, and confusion before a towering form broke from the treeline and demanded his attention. "Meurtrier… Alastor? But you're dead. I saw you, I--" He acknowledged, legs shaking.

Alastor growled, and the radio spoke again, this time in a language Angel wasn't used to hearing. Husker's face fell, shock setting into his nerves as he was forced to accept his brother and the creature in front of him were one and the same. His voice wavered as he responded in the same language. French was similar to italian in a loose sense, and so Angel caught a word here or there that he could make an educated guess at, but not enough to understand the whole exchange.

Angel _did_ know when the conversation became an argument, however. Angry sounded angry in any language and Angel was well attuned to Alastor's body language so when his ears turned backward and his haunches tensed, Angel was quick to put himself between the other two. He had faith that Alastor wouldn't lunge to bite if he was in the way. 

"Oh let him fucking try it!" Husker shouted, switching to english as he spoke to Angel. His fear was gone now, rage having overridden it.

"I brought you here to figure out how to help Al, not so you two could have a fuckin' brawl!"

_Help me?_

"He doesn't deserve it." Husker gruffed. 

"He don't deserve this either." Angel protested, waving to gesture to Alastor's form.

_Of course I deserve this._ Alastor stated quietly, openly bitter in his tone. _There's no fixing it, Angel. Don't waste your time._

"You're supposed to be dead…" Husker said, after a pause, shaking his head. "This doesn't make any fucking sense."

_Death dislikes me, apparently. So sorry to disappoint._ Alastor sniffed, ears low. 

Angel frowned at hearing that, but it brought to mind Alastor's earlier claim that he 'wasn't allowed' to die. It made it sound like there was something in charge of such things past just nature and circumstance. Maybe not a person, but something similar. Angel had already known he and Alastor believed in different sorts of gods.

"Why don't death like you?" Angel felt compelled to ask. 

_My blatant disrespect for life, I suppose._ Alastor answered with something like a shrug.

"Well that'll do it." Angel said, since he felt the need to respond but wasn't sure what with. Feeling the need to break the obvious tension, he picked the bucket up. "Anyway I brought a drink that might actually do somethin' for you!"

" _I_ made that!" Husker protested.

"You don't need it." Angel said with a grin, and tossed Husker's keys to him. "Ain't you drivin'?"

Husker caught the keys and regarded them with a heavy sense of resignation. He looked up at Alastor, foreign to him and familiar all at once. He had mixed feelings seeing him. Alastor clearly had mixed feelings too, and the fact Angel was here for the strange reunion, that he had initiated it, made it so much stranger. Still, it _was_ a reunion all the same. He put his keys in his pocket, and grunted as he moved to sit on the ground. 

“Tomorrow’s not a work day. I don’t have to go right away.” Husker decided. “Pass some of the whiplash my way.”

Angel grinned and went to retrieve some glasses from indoors so Alastor could keep the bucket for himself. Together, they got a small fire set up. The three spent the night talking, brothers catching up while Angel occasionally mentioned more recent things. A few hours in, Angel got up to dance to a song that Alastor had deemed worthy of not talking over and beckoned the creature to join him.

Surprisingly, Alastor danced too, or at least tried to get his four legs to do something that looked close enough. Angel spun and Alastor cantered a tight circle around him, lowering an antler when Angel reached up which the other used to brace on to twirl himself again. Unpracticed and a bit wobbly as both were tipsy, Angel well on his way to fully drunk, but clearly displaying something comfortable and rare between the two.

It wasn't that Alastor hadn't been one to dance when he was human; He had been. But to see him do so in a body clearly not meant for such things just because Angel had invited him to… It gave Husker enough pieces for a puzzle that was very easy to put together. It made too much sense and no sense at all.

_What are you laughing at?_ Alastor asked sharply when he caught the underbreath chuckle from Husker.

"Ah, nothing." Husker shrugged, then gestured between Angel and Alastor with his emptied glass. "Just having a good time.".


	18. Departure... No, Wait.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husker shares a concern and Angel learns what happened to Alastor.

Husker was old hat at drinking and a bucket was more like a shotglass to Alastor so neither were surprised that Angel was the first one out. He'd danced a while, overshared quite a bit, then finally settled enough to sit down. Alastor settled as well and chuckled when Angel tucked himself near his elbow, Nuggets joining shortly to snuggle Angel's knee. 

"Need a fuggin' bath…" Angel muttered, smushing his face into fur despite his claim that it smelled.

Alastor let out a mildly offended snort, but let the radio play. He didn't feel like interrupting Vera Lynn. 

"Really?" Husker asked after the song was over and both were fairly certain Angel was asleep. " _Him?_ "

_What about him?_

"Thought if you went for anybody it'd be somebody a little more...dignified." Husker said. "Don't get me wrong. He's a good kid, mostly. Just doesn't seem your type." 

_We both know I do not have a type._ Alastor stated, ears turning back as he turned his head to look down at the lanky body curled up against his side. _He is… different. And he doesn't treat me like I am._

"You should know he takes dick for money." Husker pointed out.

_I do know. There is nothing wrong with honest work._ Alastor growled. _Why are you trying to steer me away? You're hopelessly transparent._

"I'm that obvious, huh?" Husker scowled at the ground. "You go falling for the first bastard to talk to you in ten years just because he's here… It ain't good for you. It ain't good for him." 

_Not just anyone would stay._ Alastor pointed out, and shifted his body somewhat to comfortably put his head down. Angel stirred, but stayed asleep. _It is early in this...Whatever it is. Don't think so hard about it. You'll injure yourself._

"Oh fuck you." Husker chuckled.

_Would you…_ Alastor began, faltering somewhat before starting again. _I can't fit indoors or I would do it myself. Would you put Angel and his pig to bed?_

So Husker did, complaining the whole time that it hurt his shoulders and that he'd throw out his back if Angel weren't such a twig and who gave New Yorkers the right to be so damn tall. Nuggets, at least, didn't need to be carried as he followed happily. Less helpful was the fact that Angel was a cuddler and Husker ended up having a very difficult time prying his arm from the other. 

He came back out, locking the door behind him. Looking up at Alastor. "What the fuck happened to you?"

Alastor only let out a rattling sigh, and shook his head. He didn't answer the question, looking to the cabin thoughtfully. Husker wasn't sure how, but he got the feeling that Alastor was smiling.

_He's dreaming already._

Husker grunted, deciding to take his leave. He could handle his drinks well enough and he'd sobered up enough to drive. He bid his brother goodbye, realizing how off it felt that he was doing so now but hadn't when Alastor had died, or was supposed to have died. Maybe some part of him knew Alastor was too much, well… _much_ to be put down by just a bullet.

_Alastor was frantic. All he could think of was outpacing the barking behind him. A loud bang. He was fairly sure his head exploded. Then there was Nothing. Silence. Peace._

_**How boring…** Alastor thought to himself._

_"Don't want you in my graveyard… Y'd just' wake ev'ryone up." A nasal voice seemed to answer him._

_Then he was back, staring up at the sky through the trees. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Most of him hurt, now that he was noticing. Pain mixed with boredom was annoying. Then it was angering. It only got worse when he began to feel his body rot around him. His body was dead, and he couldn't stay in it. He couldn't exist outside of a body though, and he didn't fancy becoming a walking corpse even if he did figure out how to get up. He probably would be able to. He wasn't bound at all. No one had even bothered to bury him. He'd just been left where he'd fallen._

_Luckily there was a different body. Injured and scared but alive enough. Alastor could sense that much, though he wasn't sure how. It didn't matter to him. It was easy enough to find the new body and push the frightened soul out. Fortunately the new body would last. Unfortunately, it was a deer._

_"Nice trick. Can only do it once do." The voice from the void returned, and Alastor turned to see a dark man with a skull-painted face, lenseless glasses, and cotton stuffed up his nose.. "Best get to runnin' 'fore de hunter catch up."_

_Running with a bullet in his leg wasn't easy, so Alastor turned and made use of his new antlers instead. The dark man tutten disapprovingly, but guided the hunter's confused soul away. Alastor huffed and ate what he wanted of the body. He was, tired, hungry, and had no issues eating people anyway._

_A few times another hunter or predator would kill him. It never stuck, but it did pair with the wrong soul being in it to corrupt the body. Over time he became less a deer and more of a monster. He couldn't die. He wasn't allowed to. Baron Samedi had declared him unworthy of Rest._

Angel woke up crying.


	19. Gotta Have an Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel continues to look for ways to fix Alastor's predicament and makes a new aquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop making OCs, Dax.

Angel breathed in, the automatic action feeling fresher than it ever had been. The dream had been from Alastor's perspective. A direct memory. Angel had experienced, just for a moment, what it had felt like to die. What it felt like to be aware of the expired body rotting around a soul. He had answers now at least, but it somehow seemed a bit more hopeless to know. He breathed out, wiped his eyes, sniffled a bit, and pushed himself out of bed to get on with his day.

"My fault for bein' nosy…" Angel muttered to Nuggets as he fed the pig, his hangover certainly not helping.

The radio was oddly silent, not even a quiet flicker of static from it. Angel peered out the window, trying to ignore the nausea morning light brought in favor of seeing if Alastor was outside. If he was, he wasn't in immediate sight. That was fine for now. Angel had a hangover to rival the second-hand gunshot he'd felt in the memory. He assumed Alastor was in a similar state since the majority of the whiplash in the bucket had gone to him. Then again Alastor was huge and Angel had no way of knowing what a deathless curse-warped deer liver could handle.

At least Angel didn't have to work today. The general store was closed on sundays. No telling why, as Husker seemed the type more likely to punch God in the face than worship, but then lots of places were closed on sundays so it was sort of socially expected to close that day if a place closed at all. Angel hummed and laid back down, wondering why he was pondering the reasoning behind his offday so seriously. It didn't matter enough to warrant the attention he was giving it. 

He still wanted to help. There was always a way to get something done, even if it seemed otherwise. The spirit, or whatever it was, of Death that Alastor believed in didn't like Alastor, and it was that thought that Angel started with.

"If something can get pissed, it can get happy too…" Angel muttered, thinking aloud to himself as he left his home and started off toward town around noon when his brain finally stopped feeling like it was trying to escape through his eyes. 

Alastor practiced and believed in Voodoo. It sounded scary to Angel at first but since Angel had lived in the area for long enough he learned it was just another religion. Different beliefs, symbols, and such, but ultimately still something that some people had that made sense to them that helped make their lives a bit more comfortable. 

Asking about it got him a lot of odd looks, conflicting answers, and one person outright laughed in his face. Still Angel was nothing if not stubborn. He'd rather just ask Alastor, but he felt he may not get a straight answer. The dream he'd had was probably all the information he was going to get from Alastor and while it was a lot it wasn't enough. 

"Look I'm just tryin' to learn about one guy. Baron…" Angel huffed, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember the name. "Sam-somethin'. Whoever he is."

"Can' even pronounce de name. Ain't got shit to tell you." A woman named Nanette told him. She ran a shop that looked like a cross between a hoarder's paradise and a tourist's nightmare. To be fair, her answer was one of the more polite ones. 

"Don't you sell charms and spells and shit?" He asked her. "I'll pay you just for tellin' me what makes the guy happy." 

Nanette turned back to him, the hand in her pocket coming out with a skinny red, black, and yellow banded snake wound around her wrist. She held it up to his face. He flinched, but she was watching it rather than him. It flicked his tongue curiously at him, but stayed relaxed rather than coiling into an S shape or striking at him.

"She like you." Nanette said cryptically, tucking the snake into the neckline of her dress where it shifted until only its face peeked out.

"He guede loa. De baron like cigars, rum, and women." She answered finally. "He like to dance too. Give him a good chance to run his hand up a skirt." That was not at all what Angel expected of a figure supposedly equivalent of the Grim Reaper. Before he could ask her to elaborate, she held an empty hand out to him. "Now pay up and get gone."

"Thanks," Angel sighed, forking over a bit of cash he had on him. He stopped in the doorway, then turned, noticing a less colorful but even larger snake crossing the floor as he did, this one some sort of rattlesnake. He was glad he hadn't seen it earlier or his fright may have pissed it off. 

"What?" The lady asked, having noticed him lingering. "If he bite you it'd be y' own damn fault." She said after following his distracted eyes.

"That ain't it." Angel deflected, putting himself back on track. "You got any chicken feet?"

Nanette rolled her eyes, but Angel didn't miss the smile as she turned to open a small box full of the things. After that Angel felt just slightly more welcomed. He was allowed to stay on the condition he take off his shoes, since apparently the snakes didn't like the disturbance.

Angel went home with some actual instructions. He didn't tell Alastor about that part, but he did delight in tying the chicken foot he'd bought to an amused Alastor's antler. 

"You said these are protective." Angel pointed out at Alastor's visible confusion. "I'm protectin' you." He chuckled, and took his cross off to rest right next to the other charm.

_I don't think I need protecting._ Alastor said, the rise of static even more of an emotional tell than his lowered ears. _But thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nanette knows what she's doing but also absolutely fucks with tourists. Also her pets are a coral snake named Baby and a rattlesnake named Diamondback Jack and both are very fucking venomous.


	20. Unrealistic Goals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every relationship has a few arguments sometimes. People involved just need to keep in mind they're fighting a problem, not each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mess... I had one idea but Angel dragged it in a different direction for a minute.

Angel tried to get Baron Samedi's attention. Offerings and invitations every couple of days between going to work and finishing up the barn. Always when Alastor was away or asleep, knowing that since Alastor was the one the Baron had an issue with it wasn't conducive to his goal to have the stag around. Still, whatever Angel tried his efforts were met with nothing to show for it.

A bit like his own religion, Angel thought bitterly after yet another failed attempt. 

He cleared up the mess he'd made of his kitchen before starting dinner, listening for when the radio switched from music to static to let him know Alastor was awake for the night. 

_Another bottle of rum gone?_ Alastor asked, having noticed the buildup of bottles being stacked along the back wall of the barn. _You've been drinking quite a lot._

"Husker's been helping a lot." Angel deflected, deciding to pin the offerings that had gone ignored but not wasted on their mutual friend. 

It was true though. The barn was nearly finished witha all of Husker's help, the exterior only lacking window panes and letting in open air for the time until that was fixed. Not that Alastor minded the draft since he'd gotten used to living without proper shelter anyway. The inside was only somewhat less put together, since Angel had followed through on his earlier idea of putting a platform inside along one wall, the top of it level with Alastor's hind knees and a small set of stairs up the side. Husker had thankfully assumed Angel meant the addition to be a table as he helped to build it and Angel felt no need to clarify. To be fair it had been used as a table far more than what Angel had actually meant it to be used for.

The rest of the interior of the barn was mostly just space. A place out of the weather that Alastor could rest and where Angel could join him if he didn't want to sleep alone. He'd been sleeping alone a lot less. Alastor's fur was warm even though he always smelled a bit off, but Angel had gotten used to the scent anyway. 

It wasn't every night, since Angel had to earn extra money some nights to pay for all of the wood for building and extra groceries so Alastor could be included in a cooked meal every now and then. Likewise, Alastor was compelled to hunt some nights and was nocturnal anyway. Still having that sense of closeness for a few hours was nice even if the cost was the fact that they both ended up a bit tired and a bit fussy from the fatigue.

 _Husker hasn't been around enough to drink this much and still drive away._ Alastor pointed out. 

Angel sighed. "I'm still trying to fix shit for you." He admitted, just drunk enough to not be able to come up with any better excuse. "It ain't workin' out so far."

 _I told you it's a waste of time._ Alastor rattled, and tapped a fang on the kitchen window. 

Angel opened the window wider, reaching outside a moment to pat the bony snout that was just in reach. He absently traced the other's exposed teeth before resuming cooking. It was soup, just odds and ends watered down until there was enough to share. He brought the whole pot outside, a bowl for himself and the rest for Alastor.

"Carrots were on sale so there's a lot of carrots in here." Angel said as a poor attempt at changing the subject.

 _You shouldn't try to invoke things you hardly know about by yourself, you know._ Alastor advised. 

"Shut up and eat the damn soup." Angel chuckled.

 _Angel, what are you hoping will happen? There's no body for me to go back to even if you could talk the Baron into releasing me from…_ Alastor tossed his head, gesturing to the whole of himself. _Being this. The best he might do is let me die. I think you're too fond of having me around to want that._

"I don't want you to die." Angel protested, having not thought of that as the goal at all. Something in his chest shifted at the possibility. "I'm hoping maybe for once somethin' might go right in my life and it kind of has and kind of hasn't. I'm selfish babe. I like you and I just keep thinkin' 'Damn I finally find a guy to like me back and treat me right and he's a giant fuckin' monster. Ain' that just my luck?' Is that what you wanna hear?" Angel huffed, not sure why he suddenly felt defensive but knowing he was about to either get mad or cry and he really didn't want the latter. "What do _you_ want?" Angel asked. 

Alastor was quiet, looking away. He hadn't touched the food Angel set out for him yet. His ears were turned backward. 

_I've always been a monster._ Was barely audible under the static of the radio. _I hurt people and I'm being punished for it but you've done worse for less, haven't you? I'm sure it's less a problem in your case though. We're both rotten but at least you can still be around people. No one can tell you're a monster too, as beautiful as you are._

"I did what I was told. I didn't have a choice!" Angel snapped back. "I left as soon as I could. That's why I'm here."

 _I don't want you disappointed… or hurt._ Alastor tried to reason, deflating a bit. 

"Well maybe I just want to hold your fuckin' hand." Angel sighed, quiet as the brief instinct to fight left him just as quickly as it had cropped up. 

Alastor stepped closer, and Angel let out a sniffly sort of chuckled as he rested his hand on the offered hoof. It wasn't the same. It wasn't enough. Still, it's what they had. 

"Life ain't fair." Angel stated.

 _That's why it's only supposed to last so long._ Alastor agreed, finally eating now that both had calmed. 

"Too bad we don't believe in the same shit. If we were both catholic at least then I'd know we'd see each other in Hell." Angel mused, leaning against Alastor's shoulder when the stag settled next to him. "Or hey maybe if I keep tryin' to talk to Samedi he'll get pissed and we can both be giant forest monsters."

 _Don't tempt fate. It has a horrid sense of humor._ Alastor laughed. 

"Nah, I'll come back as a deer too and we can start a whole undead herd or some shit." Angel joked.

 _For all your charm? You'd probably wind up a spider._ Alastor teased, ruffling Angel's hair with his teeth in a mockery of a kiss.


	21. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some brief monster smut in this chapter!

Spring was wet and made way for a humid summer and autumn seemed to fly by so quickly. It was winter again by the time the barn was truly finished. The end of the construction both a relief and feeling just a bit like a loss. Angel had too much time on his hands now, even with still trying ritualistic prayer that wouldn't work anyway. Or at least, wouldn't work for _him_ , Nanette had told him with a laugh after selling him more shit. The lady had to make a living though, and she was nice in small doses once he got over seeing the snakes in her shop just wherever they wanted to be. 

With the extra free time, Angel spent more time in the hidden bar actually relaxing instead of working extra time to pay off all the lumber he'd had Husker bring him. Didn't stop a few guys from trying their luck with him, but he'd take the night off. Enjoy his buzz.

"Wasn't it a year ago you showed up?" Husker pointed out offhandedly, drunk enough for his thoughts to just fall out of him.

"Shit, I think you're right." Angel realized, standing from his stool and pushing what was left of his drink toward Husker who drank it without looking before spitting it back into the cup.

"Oversweet pisswater…" Husker grunted, pushing it away. It hit the floor with a crash. 

"Hey you made it that way." Angel pointed out, pulling his coat on. "I better get home."

"Early for you." Travis pointed out. "Want me to drive you?"

Between booze and peace it had seemed a good idea at the time, though a sober Angel would have declined. It was just to the edge of the woods anyway, he reasoned. A quicker way home. He wondered if they should stop somewhere but then remembered any stores were closed for the night anyway.

"Hands on the wheel, buster, you ain't paid." Angel huffed when he felt a hand on his thigh, interrupting his wandering thoughts.

"I can pay."

"Not tonight."

"What, you got a wife you're going home to?" Travis snorted.

"Yeah, yours." Angel shot back with a snicker, and ignored the driver's grumbling the rest of the way until the car stopped and he stepped out. Travis stepped out too, following and looping an arm around Angel's waist. "I don't need any help walkin', Travis." Angel said dryly, shoving the unwanted hand away.

"You let Husker go home with you sometimes." Travis pouted. "You have me take you this far but not the whole way?"

"Tell you what. If you start bringing me wood and help me build shit then I'll let'cha but until then you can fuck off."

"Oh I got wood for you." Travis said crudely.

Angel laughed. "Baby, you got a _toothpick._ Have a good fuckin' night." He continued to snicker as he left the other and sauntered homeward.

He was coming down from his high but still feeling good, happily tracing moss on the trees with his hands as he passed them just to feel the damp and fuzzy texture. It had rained earlier but the night was oddly warm for winter, a novelty of being so far south. Humidity bringing up fog but the moon was bright and he knew the way well even though it was hard to see. He half-considered taking his shoes off, but with the trees so dense it was best to keep them on to avoid sharp rocks and pine needles. Closer to home when the clearing came up he did take of his shoes, long wet grass feeling nice after all day in boots. 

"Al, I'm home!" He called, and got a rattling whistle in response from the other side just before the beastly stag breached the trees.

In Angel's peace-laced mind it almost felt like a dream. A dream he'd had as a kid but knew he couldn't have, coming home from a bar after work to a man who loved him. It wasn't exactly right. Not exactly perfect. But the imperfections seemed smudged out with the fog and the drugs forming a haze. He didn't have a husband or a child waiting at home for him but he did have a cursed man and a pig and well what was the difference, really?

Alastor shook his head and laughed, and for a moment Angel wondered why he hadn't said hello back before remembering the radio was still indoors. He went to retrieve it, glad to hear Alastor's voice come through as he brought it back outside.

 _Someone's certainly in a mood._ He said, letting out an amused chuff. _How much did you take? It's usually worn off by the time you get home._

"Little extra for the special occasion." Angel stated, reaching up.

Alastor lowered his head to allow the other's arms to wrap around his snout. _Don't overdo it, my dear._ He warned, then cocked an ear. _Special occasion?_

Running his hands over bone, feeling the spaces where the skull had cracked and healed over more than once. Other spaces smoother but still somewhat porous. All of it warm and inviting despite a lack of softness. 

"I been in Louisiana for a whole year now. Been a year since you chased me into your shack-ass house." Angel explained.

It drew Alastor's attention that yes, it had been a year. Summer had come and gone and it was winter again. He'd half forgotten what a year felt like. Were they always so short?

_Why is my attempt to kill you where you've decided our anniversary is?_

"'Cause it's fuckin' funny." Angel snickered and kissed the ridge of Alastor's snout just over his nasal cavity. 

_You're odd._

"Mhm." Angel agreed, not fully letting go of Alastor's face as he walked backward, guiding Alastor into the barn. 

Alastor had said it wasn't something he needed but he still couldn't help but feel flattered when Angel shucked his clothes and sat up on the edge of the platform. 

_Bit cold for nudity._ Alastor laughed.

"Well come warm me up then." Angel replied, rocking on his perch a moment before laying flat on his back.

Alastor rumbled deep in his chest as he stepped closer, letting his warm breath chase away the chill of the air. He let the edge of his teeth ghost over Angel's freckled skin, the softest touch he could manage still leaving a bit of a red flush behind. Angel only encouraged that, but did protest when Alastor's tongues creeped out of his mouth.

"Not yet," Angel said, propping up on his elbows and patting the edge of the platform. "You first, get up here."

Alastor put his tongues away, amused. He reared up, forelegs folding on the platform on either side of Angel. He had to crane his neck a bit to properly see the smaller body under him. Angel grinned at him when he did, the mischievous glint in his eyes reminding Alastor just why he loved him.

He didn't say so. Not sure if now was the time. Something about making such a strong statement while Angel's hands were coaxing his cock out of his sheath felt off. Too heat-of-the-moment despite being sincere. 

"I love you." Angel said, clearly having no such reservations.

Alastor didn't say anything, but the radio switched from rising static to a station that usually played the blues.

Angel put a hand on the head of Alastor's cock and arched up, grinding his clit against the underside of it. If not for the smooth wet heat it would have felt a bit like humping a pillow but the shudder he felt from the body over him was far more rewarding. 

"Wish you could fit in me," Angel murmured, repeating the action with a desperate whine. 

If not for their incompatible bodies, Alastor was sure he would have indulged him in that. He'd always been indifferent to sex but feeling wanted by Angel was nice. 

_I wish I could hold you._ A flicker of static briefly interrupted the music, but yielded to it just as quickly. 

Angel removed his hand and wrapped his thighs around Alastor's shaft, and Alastor was sure to press down a bit over Angel's dripping sex. It was sloppy, admittedly, but they were making it work. The platform Angel had built had been a stroke of genius, Alastor thought, pun quite intended. He kept the joke to himself though, knowing now was not the time.

Distracted as they both were, focused solely on each other and the slow melodies, the two missed the uninvited voyeur. Peering through the cracks in the barn wall, the observer didn't see lovers making use of an aid to help grant a cursed man some normalcy. To his eyes it looked more like a carnal offering to a demon on an altar.


End file.
